


A Tiger’s Honor, a Magpie’s Duty

by XiuChen4Ever



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: "He's Like My Wife", Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arranged Marriage, But Without Misgendering/Feminization, Gratuitous Smut, Kid Fic, M/M, Not at the same time, Pseudo-historical AU, Slow Burn, both literal and figurative
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:48:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 50,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24548668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XiuChen4Ever/pseuds/XiuChen4Ever
Summary: Prince Jongdae of Jakhan intends to do everything he can to uphold the marriage treaty that keeps his nation safe.  Surely he can convince the Jade Emperor to accept a male wife.
Relationships: Kim Jongdae | Chen/Kim Minseok | Xiumin
Comments: 66
Kudos: 283
Collections: EXO Big Bang Writing Event





	A Tiger’s Honor, a Magpie’s Duty

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was born from that scamp Kim Minseok calling his favorite dongsaeng his wife, repeatedly, in front of cameras. Like most of my fics, it quickly got out of hand.
> 
> This fic was also inspired heavily by Korean _kkachi horangi_ minhwa paintings, though I've mostly subverted the satirical meaning of such paintings while retaining the bits of symbolism and meaning that fit the story I wanted to tell. In a similar vein, I've borrowed freely from both Korean and Chinese symbolism without even attempting to maintain the slightest bit of historical accuracy, so please enjoy a free mix of Roman imperial nomenclature, European-style balls, Asian symbolism, and whatever else sounded interesting to include. No disrespect is intended.

#  ♕♡♔

“I’ll marry him.”

These three words must be pronounced three times before they cut through the hubbub that used to be an organized, if strained, Royal Parliament session. When the short sentence finally registers in the ears of the arguing nobles, their increasingly-agitated speech dissolves into incredulous silence.

When said silence lasts a beat too long for his comfort, Prince Jongdae, youngest and therefore most overlooked child of the King and Queen of Jakhan, repeats himself one more time.

“I’ll marry him.”

Spoken calmly into the quiet, the small sentence seems to carry more weight than the crown he was never meant to wear.

His mother finally blinks, an action that seems to jog her mouth into a similar motion.

“Jongdae, sweetie, you’re not a woman.”

Jongdae manages not to roll his eyes. Instead, he nods agreeably. “I know. But the Jade Emperor doesn’t really need a  _ woman— _ he already has an heir and a spare. He just needs a  _ wife _ to cement the alliance, and I’m willing to play the part.”

“But son, you can’t mean to, er,  _ play the part _ behind closed doors.” Jongdae’s father presses his lips together, brows furrowed.

Jongdae has no problem keeping his own face steady. He merely shrugs at the thought. “I doubt I’ll have to—not after the obligatory consummation, at least. The Emperor probably has concubines lined up for days. He just needs a political pawn, and I never expected to marry, anyways. I’ve been destined for the monastery since birth, so it’s not like chastity is an entirely foreign idea to me. And this way, I’ll get to see Junhee’s kids.”

The queen’s eyes water and several of the Parliament members are wiping their eyes on handkerchiefs or lacy sleeves as Jongdae continues. “We really need this alliance. Rangguk is gearing up again, and if we don’t have the Lohoryeo Empire’s protection, we’re the most likely victim of their war machine. We may be rich in good steel, but we only just recovered from the last invasion—we don’t have soldiers or food or horses to spare.”

The members of Parliament and both monarchs are all watching Jongdae, but the prince gazes back impassively. “If I’m to end up sequestered in a tower somewhere away from the world, it may as well be in Guri where my presence will save our people’s lives rather than on Ulleung Island where I’d merely be saving their souls.”

The religious Speaker frowns at this, but doesn’t interrupt.

“I say let him do it,” Lord Ha puts in. “The Jade Princess and Prince deserve to be raised by their mother’s family, not Imperial strangers.”

“Are you sure?” Jongdae’s mother asks him, eyes glimmering wetly. “We’ve already lost a daughter. It’s not fair for us to sacrifice our only unmarried son.”

“I’m your only unmarried child of any gender,” Jongdae points out. “And I can hardly die in childbirth.” 

This last part is delivered softly, meant to reassure rather than mock. His sister, the late Jade Empress Junhee, had lived up to her epithet of the Guardian Phoenix by sacrificing her own life that her twins might live. They’d been tangled in her womb, and after almost two days of agonizing labor, the attempts to extract them had torn something inside her. She’d ordered the midwife to cut her children free of the body that would otherwise become their tomb, and the tearful woman had been obliged to obey, though it meant his sister’s death.

It was just like Junhee to save her babies instead of herself.

But her death left the alliance agreement unfulfilled, leaving their tiny kingdom in danger of predation without the Empire on their side. All of Jakhan’s princesses and duchesses had been married off already, but Jongdae is a Prince of the Blood. The Jade Emperor can hardly complain about his late wife being replaced by one of equal social status. And since Jade Princess Sohee and Jade Prince Sehun are healthy and thriving with the wet nurse, their father can hardly protest that Prince Jongdae won’t be providing him with additional heirs.

“A man can’t be a wife,” Lady Im protests.

Jongdae shrugs. “I don’t see why not. I can dress in traditional clothing and hold court at balls and banquets. I’ll learn how to embroider a wedding shirt. And if he does want someone in his bed, well, it’s his prerogative to take a concubine if he wants. If he’d rather have more of me post-consummation, then I’ll learn how to serve the kingdom that way too, if I must.”

There’s a lot of wincing from the Royal Parliament, but Jongdae isn’t too concerned. Taking the imperial cock won’t make his own fall off, and he has it on good authority that it’s possible for the proceedings to be enjoyable for both parties. It’s got to be better than being a monk.

#  ♔♡♕

“I think I’d rather be a monk,” Jade Emperor Xiumin complains as his valet dresses him in the ceremonial formalwear that will serve as both funeral garb and wedding attire within the space of a few hours. All he’ll need to do is shed his plain white mourner’s robe to reveal the more-matrimonial verdigris trousers and white silk jacket he’s wearing underneath, both heavily embroidered with gleaming gold outlines of Lohoryeo’s white tiger emblem interspersed with the Jade Emperor’s own dragon.

The preparations had all been so hasty (and Jakhan so far away) that not only would the Jade Emperor not meet his bride before the ceremony that would tie them together for life, but none of his household had encountered the man until he’d stepped out of the Jakhan royal carriage a scant two hours ago. He’d immediately been whisked away to be dressed and readied for the ceremonies to follow, and no one among Xiumin’s personal retinue could even tell the Jade Emperor what the man looks like.

Archchancellor Do, The Jade Emperor’s most trusted councillor—and the closest thing His Imperial Highness has to a friend—is leaning against the ornately-carved vanity, watching as the valet fusses over folds of fabric. “I’m sure the Jakhan Prince isn’t thrilled either, Augustus,” he says patiently, “but the treaty is worded unambiguously. They owe you a wife; they’re providing one, even if she’s a he.”

“I know, and I respect the Prince’s dedication to duty,” Xiumin grumbles. “Mine is no less, whether or not I wish the situation to be otherwise. I’ll fulfill the treaty and re-cement the alliance, awkward as this whole thing will be for everyone.” 

The treaty is important for both nations, trading Jakhan’s raw steel for military protection. Lohoryeo is a large empire with a large military to defend it, supplied by the few ore deposits present within their borders. Jakhan has more arms and armor than they have soldiers to outfit, thanks to a brutal attempt at invasion by an ambitious neighboring nation. Instead of letting their enemies get ahold of their steel, they’re willing to outfit an ally, but this arrangement requires the reassurance of an imperial marriage to ease fears that the larger nation will merely conquer or abandon the smaller once Jakhan steel is wielded in Lohoryeo fists.

As his valet works, Xiumin idly wonders what his bride’s valet is draping him in. Will it be another long brocade jacket over sharply-creased trousers, only in Jakhan’s traditional indigo-black and alizarin crimson? Or will they actually dress the Prince in bridalwear?

He sighs in resignation, then closes his eyes so his valet can paint his face with the traditional makeup: kohl lining his large almond-shaped eyes, verdigris pigment brushed over his monolids, and carmine paint over his heart-shaped lips. When he feels the man sweep powdered gold over his broad cheekbones he opens his eyes, adorned face as composed and still as the precious stone he’s thrice named for.

“Let’s get this over with, Archchancellor Do.”

“As Your Imperial Highness commands,” the Archchancellor returns, language formal and face blank, although there’s still a wicked glint in his wide round eyes. The man is fearless and unflappable despite his diminutive stature—he’s the only man Xiumin knows that’s shorter than he is himself when barefoot. 

Not that anyone goes barefoot often in the snowy mountains that cover most of Lohoryeo, especially not the Jade Emperor. He’s traded his usual damask slippers for black leather boots with turned-up toes, displaying gold embroidery depicting a tiger’s face on the toes and a dragon winding around the calf. However, he’d transferred over the leather wedges that lift his heels another two fingerbreadths away from the polished marble floors of the Gilded Palace. Combined with the thick soles of the boots, he’s currently a good four fingerbreadths taller than his Archchancellor.

Xiumin knows he’s irked at the situation and not the man himself, but he can’t help a fleeting selfish wish that the Jakhan Prince is shorter than the Jade Emperor. He knows that’s almost certainly not the case—the man’s sister had been a hair taller than her husband (though thankfully willing to wear thin-soled slippers whenever they appeared together in public). Hopefully the Prince will at least be willing to continue Xiumin’s illusions of superior stature.

Due to the voluminous mourning robes, Xiumin doesn’t get much opportunity to inspect his new bride during the elaborate imperial funeral for the Guardian Phoenix—not that he’d profane his late Empress’s memorial by ogling her successor. It’s not like he’s going to be bedding the man, anyway—this whole elaborate charade is a prudent political maneuver rather than a romantic endeavor. Still, the Jade Emperor can’t help but be curious about this male wife he’s being tied to.

So he watches with veiled interest as Jakhan’s last Heir of the Blood is transported by palanquin to the dais at his side, kneeling demurely on a silken cushion and wearing full bridal regalia. Xiumin would think a man would look absolutely ridiculous enrobed in all that crimson silk, but somehow the prince still manages to look fierce despite the traditional makeup designed to emphasize feminine traits the man doesn’t much exhibit. 

His eyes, so dark as to be almost black, are made more intense by their outline of kohl and Xiumin has to suppress a smirk at the spirit evidently bottled for decorum’s sake. He has high, sharp cheekbones framing a straight nose, all of which are dusted with a sheen of royal silver. His strong jawline cuts square across his chin, and his crimson-stained lips seem to curl up at the end, giving him the look of a quietly irate cat.

He should fit right in among the tigers of Lohoryeo.

He’s fitted right into his outfit, too, with Jakhan’s magpie on the wing boldly embroidered over the well-fitted bodice. Since there are no feminine curves to factor in, the tailor has taken advantage of the sharply-tapered canvas of the Prince’s torso to display plenty of national pride. But then the rest of the Prince is obscured by drapes and puffs of damask and brocade in black and red, topped off by an elaborate headpiece in ruby and jet supported by filigree of royal silver. It’s affixed to the stiffly-voluminous traditional wig which is adorned with more silver-strung rubies, and they’ve even varnished the man’s nails in scarlet to compliment the Jade Emperor’s own nails which are coated in imperial gold.

Still, this Magpie Prince is obviously male, at least to Xiumin’s eyes. It’s less strange than he thought it would be, though—his bride looks suitably imperial and powerful and he hopes the various court artists documenting the ceremony don’t overly smooth the sharp edges of his bride’s face in the portraits that are sure to follow.

He offers the man a polite smile as he offers a hand up from the palanquin, pleased when it’s returned despite the man’s obvious discomfort. Xiumin’s own ceremonial wig and headpiece is both stupidly heavy and tacked into his hair with what feels like every hairpin in Guri, so he can certainly empathize with his bride’s murky mood. At least if this Prince is willing to smile at the Jade Emperor as they interlace their hands, Xiumin can hope that he also is annoyed at the ritual rather than the participant.

And the ritual is certainly easy to be annoyed by. The ancient priest is probably delighted to get to perform this elaborate, intricate (tedious) procedure twice in under a year, and Xiumin gives his bride’s sturdy fingers a subtle empathetic squeeze. The Prince squeezes back, a hint of mirth sparking into those jet black eyes as he looks up through long eyelashes at Xiumin. Yes, up—the Jade Emperor suspects this Prince is indeed taller than his late sister, but his slim satin slippers are letting the groom look slightly down on his new bride.

The pair of them go through all the traditional motions, following along with the tigerskin-clad priest as he chants and orates and officiates. It takes an hour at least, and by the time the holy man directs the wedded couple to conclude the ceremony with a kiss, Xiumin is so ready to be done with this pageantry that he doesn’t even hesitate.

It’s not until his lips are moving instinctively against their target that Xiumin fully realizes he’s kissing another man. Startled, he tries not to pull back too abruptly—he has to always appear entirely on board with this unorthodox marriage so his people will be led well by his example. It’s not like the Prince’s lips were objectionable at all, but Xiumin is still surprised by his own automatic eagerness. It’s been a very long time since the imperial lips touched another pair, and evidently they’re eager to renew the activity.

Too bad for them, though. And too bad for the rest of Xiumin’s body, too—he may as well be an actual monk for all the action he’s going to get.

#  ♕♡♔

Well, that wasn’t nearly as terrible as Jongdae had expected it to be. Sure, his scalp feels like it’s seconds from ripping away from his skull thanks to the weighty ceremonial headpiece, but the Jade Emperor seems far from disgusted with his new wife. Perhaps it’s all for show, but he’s giving the assembled crowd what appear to be proud little smiles and benevolent waves as the two of them are assisted onto the palanquin that will carry them to their chambers.

The thought of their chambers almost has Jongdae’s own beatific smile slipping from his painted lips, but he firmly pastes it on as he waves at the populace from his side of the palanquin. The Jade Emperor had kissed him readily enough, but that was for the ceremony. Will he want to kiss Jongdae again when they’re alone in the Imperial suite?

Is Jongdae more wary that he will or apprehensive that he won’t?

“My Phoenix,” the Jade Emperor murmurs as he offers Jongdae a hand up off the cushioned wooden transport after it’s been set down outside the adjacent chamber doors.

Jongdae accepts his new husband’s assistance but otherwise responds only with a polite smile instead of returning the address. He’s not at all sure what he’s supposed to call the man he just married. Referring to him as “my Dragon” seems odd, as surely it’s Jongdae who belongs to the Jade Emperor, not the other way around. He doesn’t even know this Dragon’s given name, not that he’d address him as such in public. Or in private, for that matter—it seems entirely too intimate for someone who’s little better than a stranger.

Rituals are really dumb sometimes. Whoever decided that the Emperor’s vitality would leak away into his suitors if he met them prior to the wedding was just stupid. Like it’s a good idea to choose a life partner based on vital statistics and the exaltations of their family.

Then again, neither of them had really had a choice in this particular case, so it’s just as well Jongdae had no idea how downright gorgeous the Jade Emperor is up close. He’d have felt way more ridiculous in his stupid bridal regalia if he’d been aware the man’s face is evidently carved from smooth white jade.

He’d love to shed that stupid bridal regalia, so that’s why he bows and scurries through the phoenix-carved door as soon as it’s tugged open by the palanquin bearers. Or at least that’s what he tries to tell himself even though the image of curious verdigris-accented eyes is lingering in his head.

In an effort to dislodge his strange thoughts, Jongdae looks around the room that will be his home. 

“Wow,” he breathes as he takes in the Jade Empress’s parlor. 

It’s larger than the sitting room of his own suite back in Jakhan, and it’s much more opulently decorated. The white marble walls and floor are broken up by rugs and tapestries of imperial purple and alizarin crimson that coordinate well with the curtains hiding what seems to be a very large window. The colors are echoed again in the upholstery on the settees and wingback chairs, and everything is accented with braids and tassels of imperial gold that glimmer in the light from the wrought-iron wall sconces.

The furniture is arranged to flank a fireplace guarded by more wrought iron, filigree phoenixes appearing to dance among the crackling flames. There’s a small table and two chairs by the window, made of the same dark wood as the shelves to either side of the full-length curtains. The shelves are laden with books, boxes, curios and trinkets Jongdae recognizes as Junhee’s, and he blinks rapidly as his fingers trail over a crimson tapestry with Jakhan’s magpie woven into it in bright white and their signature indigo-black.

There’s also a massive pile of boxes and bundles and fabric-draped lumps in the center of the room, and Jongdae is confused for a moment before he realizes those must be bridal gifts from various dignitaries and ambassadors. He’s rather surprised to see so many, expecting only a few from his family and the obligatory one from his new husband. He wonders if the Jade Emperor has a similar pile and whether Jongdae’s carefully-wrapped bundle will look shamefully shabby among them.

“Your Imperial Highness,” comes a voice, and Jongdae turns to see a slim man folding into a deep bow. Jongdae bobs an answering greeting as the man straightens up, vaguely concerned about this stranger in what are supposed to be his private chambers.

“Byun Baekhyun is honored to be at your service,” the man says with a boxy smile. “This valet has been sent to be the personal attendant of the Imperial Phoenix, if it pleases Your Imperial Highness.”

Jongdae relaxes. He’d be sending his own valet home with the rest of the Jakhan retinue, since the man had a wife and children waiting for him there. And now that he looks at Baekhyun a little closer, he recognizes the man as one of the many who had assisted his prior valet in preparing Jongdae for the wedding ceremony.

“It pleases me just fine,” Jongdae says with a smile. “And it would please me more to remove this lovely headpiece as soon as possible.”

Baekhyun chuckles. “The dressing room is through here,” he says, gesturing to the doorway he’d just emerged from. “If Your Imperial Highness will accept this servant’s assistance, your valet will do the utmost to make the Phoenix comfortable.”

Jongdae gratefully follows his new valet, holding his swishing skirts and walking carefully so he doesn’t trip on the way across the room. It’s going to take some practice for Jongdae to adapt to his new wardrobe.

The dressing room is massive and stuffed full of gowns and robes and headpieces, and Jongdae figures pins gouging his scalp is another thing he’ll have to get used to. He’s relieved to see his own luggage trunks stacked among the racks of clothes. He’s even more relieved to be able to sit on the tufted stool in front of a dark wooden vanity carved with more phoenixes and topped with a huge mirror of polished bronze.

Baekhyun’s elegant fingers are gentle but efficient as he rids Jongdae of the uncomfortable headpiece and wig. Jongdae hums happily as he runs his fingers through his own hair, raking out the last lingering pins and trying to get the black strands to lie in a less ridiculous way across his forehead. 

“Thank you,” he says with a smile for his new valet. “Women must have scalps of iron.”

Baekhyun laughs. “It’s likely they object to all the pins just as much, but tradition is difficult to fight.” He looks Jongdae up and down in the mirror as he starts in on the line of hooks holding his bodice closed. “Then again, Your Imperial Highness seems to have won at least one battle already.”

Jongdae shakes his head. “I won’t be fighting any more,” he assures the man. “I’m here, the treaty is secured, and wearing puffy skirts and hairpins is a small price to pay for the Jade Emperor’s protection.”

Baekhyun’s face flashes into an odd expression before being schooled back to a polite smile. “Your valet shall have to beg lessons from the lady’s maids in such a case,” he comments as Jongdae stands to slide out of the silken finery with a happy little sigh.

“Too bad I can’t beg lessons from the ladies,” Jongdae laughs, washing the various paints and powders from his face with a soft cloth and a basin of water.

Baekhyun assists him in making sure all the makeup is erased. “Your valet is here to make life easier for Your Imperial Highness. To the furthest possible extent, any inquiries will be answered and any requests will be honored.” 

Baekhyun hands Jongdae a robe of scarlet silk to wear over his undertunic and smallclothes, then leads him out of the dressing room and across the parlor to a dark wooden door carved with a fearsome dragon. “The Jade Emperor awaits his bride,” he says, gesturing to the door.

Jongdae swallows, then turns back into the dressing room to fling open one of his chests and withdraw a padded silk drawstring bag. Then he squares his shoulders, determined to be the best wife he possibly can. To ensure the safety of his people, he’ll give the Jade Emperor no cause for complaint. 

Baekhyun opens the dragon door as Jongdae approaches and he steps through into the Jade Emperor’s sitting room, trying to look around discreetly instead of gawping like a commoner. It’s a bit larger than Jongdae’s new parlor but similarly furnished, though the fabric in this room is various shades of green accented with more gold. A pile of gifts overflows in the center of the room, and Jongdae resists the urge to pluck his awkward offering from the pile to toss in the crackling dragon-adorned fireplace.

The Jade Emperor is indeed waiting for his bride, having exchanged his bridegroom’s finery for a cream-colored robe of a similar style to Jongdae’s. Unbound, his straight black hair brushes his shoulders, and his eyes look no less wide and feline now that they’re devoid of makeup. He’s standing placidly beside a dark wooden table set for two, and Jongdae’s stomach rumbles in anticipation as he folds himself into a bow. 

“Your Imperial Highness,” he greets, suddenly feeling shy in front of his intimidating husband. He has no idea what to do or expect at this point.

At least the Jade Emperor seems similarly flustered. He gives Jongdae a bashful smile.

“My Phoenix,” he replies, returning the bow. “Would you care for some refreshment?”

“Yes, please,” Jongdae sighs, returning his husband’s smile as the man pulls one of the ornate wooden chairs out for his wife. Jongdae allows the Jade Emperor to seat him, trying not to drool over the bounty of fruit and cheese and bread and meat spread over the small table before him.

The Jade Emperor seats himself across from Jongdae, flicking a bashful glance across the table before dropping his eyes to the food. He pours them both a goblet of wine before selecting choice bits to place on his new wife’s plate.

“Your Phoenix is grateful,” Jongdae murmurs when the filled plate is set before him. It’s made of highly-polished bronze, as are the rest of the table settings. As Jongdae reaches for his chopsticks, he notices they’re engraved with a dragon and a phoenix twining intimately around each other.

He changes his mind and reaches for his wine goblet first, instead.

A gentle chuckle from across the table makes Jongdae freeze mid-gulp, blushing as he sets the goblet down and tries to swallow without choking. So much for first impressions.

But when he dares to glance across the table again, he sees the Jade Emperor refilling his own goblet along with topping off Jongdae’s, and he relaxes minutely. At least he’s not the only one needing a bit of liquid courage.

But he doesn’t actually want to be drunk for his wedding night—he needs to be cognizant enough to use the contents of the bag tucked into his lap. So he quickly chases the wine with some bread and cheese before braving an unusual slice of fruit. It’s delicious, tart on his tongue and firm between his teeth. He makes an involuntary noise of pleasure, then blushes again when another chuckle drifts across the table.

Jongdae manages to control himself after that and the rest of the meal is consumed in silence. He shakes his head when his new husband offers to refill both plate and goblet—nerves are making his stomach churn a little, and he’d rather not throw up in the Jade Emperor’s bed.

“Many thanks, Your Imperial Highness,” Jongdae says as the Jade Emperor sits back in his chair. “The meal was delicious.”

“Outside of formal ceremonies, it’s customary for anyone within the Jade Emperor’s court to address him as ‘Augustus,’” the Jade Emperor states in a voice soft as velvet. “Those in the inner circle often use the cognomen ‘Xiumin,’ but the Imperial Phoenix may use the epithet ‘my Dragon’ or the given name ‘Minseok’ if preferred.”

Stars, Jongdae can’t even address his husband correctly. He’s not going to need makeup at this rate—his cheeks will be permanently pink and his lips continually chewed on. “Yes, Augustus,” he says. The other options seem far too intimate for Jongdae to use with a man he’s just met, which is a bit silly considering they’re about to consummate their marriage.

He tries not to fidget in the following silence, keeping his eyes downcast between tiny glances at the jade statue he’s married.

“My Phoenix is a bit of a puzzle,” Xiumin finally says. “It doesn’t seem appropriate to use the traditional third-person styles of ‘the Jade Empress’ or ‘Her Imperial Highness.’”

“If that’s what’s expected, your Phoenix will make no objections,” Jongdae answers. What strangers call him isn’t going to change his own sense of identity. “Puzzle or not, your Phoenix is legally the Jade Emperor’s Imperial Wife.”

When Jongdae risks a glance across the table, Xiumin is frowning at him. “But the Jade Emperor’s wife is not a woman. It was surprising for my Phoenix to be presented in full bridal array.”

“It’s expected for a bride to wear bridal array,” Jongdae replies. “Your Phoenix is prepared to wear whatever is required.”

“My Phoenix has already sacrificed much for this treaty,” Xiumin counters. “Duty does not require my Phoenix to abandon dignity as well.”

Jongdae flashes his husband a grateful smile. “Your Phoenix does have more fitted clothing,” he says. “Though of course it is embellished with royal silver rather than imperial gold.” 

“My Phoenix deserves to be clothed in a manner befitting both gender and imperial rank,” the Jade Emperor says with a shake of his head. “A tailor will be sent to take measurements in the morning, and my Phoenix may make use of the Jade Emperor’s raiment until such time as the new clothing is ready.”

Jongdae blinks in surprise. He’d expected to have his clothes re-embroidered if he were allowed to wear them, not be given an entirely new wardrobe. He folds into a bow over his plate. “Your Imperial Highness is too generous,” he says, unable to hide his smile. “Your Phoenix is grateful.”

“It is no more than should be expected,” the Jade Emperor dismisses. “As far as how my Phoenix is to be titled, it seems fair to grant that given to the Imperial Consort to a Jade Empress of the Blood.”

Jongdae lets himself smirk. It seems that the Jade Emperor is secure in his masculinity if he’s willing to allow Jongdae to be titled as if Xiumin were a woman.

“Your Phoenix is honored to be the Jade Emperor’s Grand Prince Consort,” Jongdae says with another bow. 

“The court shall be instructed to address my Phoenix as ‘Augustum,’” the Jade Emperor continues. “It is regrettably a gender-neutral honorific rather than masculine as my Phoenix deserves, but it seems more appropriate than the feminine.”

“Gender-neutral seems very appropriate for a male wife,” Jongdae agrees. “It is most kind of the Jade Emperor to bestow his Phoenix such honors.”

Xiumin frowns. “Such honors are to be expected,” he states. “My Phoenix is the co-sovereign of the Lohoryeo Empire, outranking all except the Jade Emperor himself and his direct heir.”

The last word seems to pull a cloud over Xiumin’s face. “The Jade Emperor is extremely honored to have two such heirs. They are both so beautiful and so strong,” he says. “But the loss of their revered mother is deeply saddening.”

Jongdae blinks several times and swallows hard, concentrating on the empty plate before him. “The same sentiment is held by all who loved our Guardian Phoenix.”

It’s quiet for a while before the newlyweds start sneaking glances at each other, neither evidently eager to proceed to the Jade Emperor’s bedchamber. In an effort to further delay the inevitable, Jongdae finds the courage to ask the most powerful man in the known world for another favor after being granted so much already.

“Your Phoenix would beg one more boon of the generous Jade Emperor,” Jongdae says. “Would it be possible for your Phoenix to be introduced to the imperial heirs?”

Xiumin blinks. “Of course! The imperial heirs are traditionally raised in the jade nursery adjoining my Phoenix’s personal chambers.” He looks at his own empty plate. “It was hoped that my Phoenix would agree to supervise their upbringing on the Jade Emperor’s behalf, as matters of state weigh heavily on the imperial shoulders and occupy much of the Jade Emperor’s time. But if my Phoenix prefers, the imperial heirs can be raised in the gold nursery instead.”

“No!” Jongdae bites his lip at his informal outburst, feeling his cheeks heat yet again as he reclaims his most formal speech. “If it pleases the Jade Emperor, your Phoenix would be most honored to assist in their upbringing,” he says. “Your Phoenix would enjoy observing their development.”

Xiumin lifts his face to look at Jongdae, showing off a perfectly pointed chin and a disarmingly boyish smile. “The Jade Emperor is looking forward to that as well.”

Jongdae returns the smile with a genuine one of his own. Maybe this whole marriage thing won’t be so bad.

#  ♔♡♕

Xiumin wonders if it’s relief that’s making his heart dance in his chest. So far this Jongdae, despite his curve-less body and chiseled face, seems like he’ll make a rather decent wife. He’s amiable but spirited, excited about raising his sister’s children, and if he tolerated that damnable dress, he probably won’t object to any of the rest of the usual duties of the Jade Empress. Or rather, the Grand Prince Consort. He’s grateful not to have to come up with an alternative to calling his wife the Imperial Phoenix, though—the Heir of the Blood becomes the Dragon upon coronation whether Emperor or Empress, and the consort is always the Phoenix whether Empress Consort or Grand Prince Consort. Both mythical creatures are powerful but considered entirely gender-neutral.

But Jongdae’s body isn’t gender-neutral. It’s decidedly male beneath the silken robe that’s replaced the matrimonial garb, and Xiumin isn’t exactly looking forward to the moment when his new wife removes that robe to join him in bed. Not that he has any intention of doing anything other than sleeping beside the man, but the thought still makes his abdomen clench distractingly.

Xiumin needs a different distraction. “Would my Phoenix enjoy visiting the imperial heirs before retiring?”

Jongdae’s face lights up with delight before being schooled once again into formal politeness. His smile doesn’t entirely disappear as he formally thanks the Jade Emperor for allowing him to see his own sister’s children.

As if Xiumin would refuse.

He rises and steps around the table to draw Jongdae’s chair back so he can easily stand. “My Phoenix does not require permission to see the children he’s agreed to raise,” he assures his wife. “The imperial heirs belong to the Phoenix as much as to the Dragon.”

Jongdae’s feline lips escape his formal control to blossom into a bright smile and Xiumin’s heart tries to run away again. 

“Thanks!” he chirps, then shakes himself back to blankness. “Apologies. Your Phoenix is extremely grateful.”

Xiumin lets his own smile emerge for a moment. “The Jade Emperor is extremely grateful to have such an agreeable Phoenix,” he responds, crossing the room to open the phoenix door and hold it so Jongdae can pass through. Just because his wife is a man doesn’t mean Xiumin should be lax in his husbandly duties. He still needs to make sure his Phoenix is comfortable and as happy as possible.

Xiumin follows his wife into the Phoenix’s parlor, feeling a little odd entering the set of rooms he had visited only rarely over the last ten months. “It is customary for the Phoenix to redecorate these chambers to suit individual taste,” he says, feeling a little like he’s betraying the former occupant by pointing this out.

Jongdae’s smile is a little sad. “Your Phoenix appreciates the current style,” he says softly. “It’s nice to see traces of our Guardian Phoenix.” Then the new Grand Prince Consort turns to his husband with a thin-lipped smirk. “Although… these chambers seem strangely tidy for rooms occupied by our Guardian Phoenix.”

Xiumin offers a little smile of his own. He hadn’t known the Guardian Phoenix well at all, especially considering pregnancy had altered her temperament for most of their short marriage, but her penchant for disarray was one trait that had remained constant. “The chambermaids worked hard to prepare the Phoenix’s chambers for their new occupant,” he acknowledges, shifting his weight as if the action would shake off his sense of guilt. 

“The nursery door is unadorned,” he says to shift his new wife’s attention to something more pleasant. “It is thought the attention of evil spirits is thus avoided,” he adds when Jongdae gives him a questioning look.

The wet nurse bows at them when they enter, and even as Jongdae returns the greeting his head is turned to catch the soft little noises emanating from within a gauzy silk canopy. Xiumin’s heirs are asleep in their side-by-side cribs, little heads turned to face each other even in slumber. They used to scream if they were separated at all, evidently accustomed to being pressed up against each other within their mother. The midwife had recommended slowly separating the two—not very far, but just enough to ensure they each developed an independent sense of identity.

They couldn’t be side-by-side forever, after all. Jade Princess Sohee had been tugged from her mother’s torn womb first, and would therefore assume the Jade Throne after her father. Jade Prince Sehun would likely remain at the palace—Xiumin doesn’t have enough heirs to risk letting either of them very far from his fierce protection—but the Jade Prince certainly wouldn’t be sharing a bedchamber with the Jade Empress and her own Grand Prince Consort.

But for now, he’s happy to let them draw comfort from each other. They definitely need it—his poor motherless heirs.

But at least they have an invested uncle. Jongdae is obviously screeching internally over their cuteness, but the only sound he emits is a quiet murmur as he tenderly strokes Sohee’s chubby cheeks and chucks Sehun’s pointed chin.

“Hi, babies,” he almost whispers, dropping the shield of formal language in the face of the undeniable cuteness of the twins. “I’m so, so sorry your mama couldn’t be here with you, but you won’t grow up without a Phoenix in your lives. Your uncle loves you, and he’s here to remind you that while you’ll grow up to be tigers of Lohoryeo, you carry the blood of Jakhan’s magpie as well. Your mother’s blood. She’d be so, so proud of you both, our strong and sturdy little ones. Our little nestlings.”

Heat pricks at the corners of Xiumin’s eyes as he watches his new wife bond with what his late wife left behind. For the first time since he’d been torn from sleep by screams ten days ago, the Jade Emperor feels the tight coil of his worry begin to unwind.

The newfound peace only lasts for a short time before the wet nurse very gently suggests they let the babies sleep undisturbed. Xiumin had interviewed many women before granting this one the permission and privilege to raise his precious heirs. She had managed to demonstrate both deference and backbone, and every interaction he has with the woman reaffirms his choice.

With reluctance, Jongdae bids the infants one last goodnight before letting the wet nurse shoo them from the room to head back to the Imperial Dragon’s chambers. Xiumin feels like a hero when his new wife smiles over at him with an entirely contented look. The feeling is undiminished by the fact that walking beside the man reveals his suspicions of his wife’s superior height to be correct. At least it’s only a tiny margin.

The look Jongdae gives him as they stand on opposite sides of the bed isn’t at all contented, though. It’s blushingly bashful, even more so when he shrugs out of his scarlet robe and goes to remove his undertunic, giving Xiumin a searing glimpse of lean abs before his startled gasp causes the fabric to abruptly slip back down.

Jongdae looks carefully blank and Xiumin wonders what expression the man is hiding. “Apologies, Augustus. Is the Jade Emperor uninterested in consummating this union?”

Xiumin emphatically shakes his head. 

“Your Phoenix is fully prepared to submit to the Jade Emperor’s desires,” Jongdae offers, holding up the small drawstring bag he’d been carrying around with him all evening.

Xiumin shakes his head again. Why is his heart pounding so much? He’s seen shirtless men on the sparring field all the time. He’s even been one of them. A slender waist is nothing to be so surprised to see.

Something awkward creeps over Jongdae’s face. “Should your Phoenix retire to his own chambers?”

“No,” Xiumin says, finding his tongue again. “It is imperative that my Phoenix share this bed tonight, though the same is not required of his body.”

Jongdae looks a bit confused, but he obediently slides between the sheets as Xiumin draws his own tunic over his head. The Jade Emperor’s wife gives his bare torso an appraising look, then lifts a questioning brow as he meets Xiumin’s gaze.

Xiumin has been watching Jongdae blush intermittently all evening, and now it’s evidently his turn. “The Jade Emperor’s staff will expect to see the imperial couple in dishabile,” he explains, hastening to hide himself beneath the covers on his side of the bed. “It would not do to give rise to any rumors that the Jade Emperor is not wholly committed to this marriage.”

Jongdae nods as Xiumin reaches over to extinguish the bedside candle. For long moments, the Jade Emperor listens to his new wife breathe beside him in the dark.

#  ♕♡♔

Jongdae has been awake since dawn finishing the embroidery on the bridal shirt awaiting his husband’s scorn in the pile of imperial gifts, but he’s strangely wakeful as he lies motionless beside his new husband in the Jade Emperor’s massive bed. An entire other person could fit in the space between Jongdae and his new husband, yet Jongdae is convinced he can feel the heat radiating from the body that’s definitely sculpted from creamy jade to match that flawless face. 

The Jade Emperor is absolutely  _ gorgeous. _ It’s so unfair that Jongdae has to appear in public with him, looking even less like a flowering phoenix beside this walking work of art. At least his ridiculously-attractive husband intends for his wife to wear mens’ clothing when he does so, meaning Jongdae will only look like some random small-country bumpkin playing dress-up rather than a troll who’d eaten the Imperial Phoenix before trying on her clothes.

Except he is the Imperial Phoenix now. The Jade Emperor’s legal wife.

_ Wife. _ What an odd thing to be. Thankfully his husband doesn’t seem to expect too much of him so far, just help raise the kids, attend functions, behave respectably. Jongdae can do that. In fact, he’s looking forward to most of it.

The nestlings are beautiful. Perfect but tiny, since like many twins they’d outgrown their shared womb prior to the normal pregnancy term. It’s odd to think that someone seemingly no bigger than a kitten nonetheless holds more power than anyone in the known world except their father.

Their every wail and wish will be someone’s command, but to Jongdae they’re just his babies, precious for their mother’s blood as much as their father’s. He’s their Phoenix, their stand-in parent, and he’s going to do his very best by them.

He’s so glad the Jade Emperor is not only allowing him to see them, but expects his new wife to care for his children in their mother’s stead. Really, even if everything else about this marriage is terrible, it will still be more than worth it just to watch the nestlings grow into tigers.

But so far, the marriage hasn’t been terrible. His new husband seems determined to accord his unorthodox wife with every right and respect due the Jade Emperor’s consort, even if he’s evidently far from interested in actually consorting with Jongdae. Which is great, actually—Jongdae can’t say he was excited to have something shoved vigorously up his ass, even if his parents had made the most versatile courtier in all of Jakhan explain to their son exactly how to go about pleasing the Jade Emperor without doing himself an injury in the process.

If Jongdae feels a little disappointed, it’s only because he’s sleeping here beside his unnerving husband instead of relaxing comfortably in his own bed. But Jongdae understands the need to provide the illusion of coitus on the wedding night even if the marriage is to remain unconsummated. It’s obviously just because Xiumin has no desire for men rather than because he plans to set Jongdae aside later when a more suitable, more female wife comes along.

Right?

Except when Jongdae wakes up, his husband is pinning him to the bed. Jongdae forces himself not to resist, to be a good little wife—but Xiumin isn’t actually doing anything. Well, he’s breathing, hot breath tickling the back of Jongdae’s neck. But that’s pretty much it, despite the well-muscled arm encircling his chest and the meaty thigh draped over his hips.

And the erection pressed against his ass.

Evidently, the Jade Emperor is a cuddly sleeper. This thought makes Jongdae feel uncomfortably melancholy, knowing he’s only a sub-standard stand-in for his bold, beautiful sister. 

And then tears are pricking his eyes, which he plans to ignore until they go away like he always does with the squishy emotions he doesn’t know how to deal with. Except he can’t ignore the click of the chamber door, and the brisk footsteps that enter the room show no signs of going away.

“Good Morning, Your Imperial Highnesses,” a way-too-perky voice sings. “I was prepared to tell the council I’d found the imperial newlyweds intimately entwined regardless of whether our new Phoenix was in the Dragon’s bed or not, but I suppose it’s nice not to have to lie.”

“Piss off, Kyungsoo,” Xiumin groans, pulling a shocked Jongdae closer and burying his face between his wife’s shoulder blades. 

This Kyungsoo answers with a rolling laugh. “Your Archchancellor is here to inform you that the Dowager Empress requests the honor of the imperial couple’s presence at a private breakfast in her parlor in an hour, if it please you both.”

“It would please us to be left alone to dress,” Xiumin mutters against Jongdae’s linen-covered back. “Just because we’ve bathed together as children doesn’t mean you get to ogle the imperial person as an adult. Things have changed since then.”

Kyungsoo laughs again. “I just bet they have. While needling the Jade Emperor is always amusing, I do extend my apologies to the Imperial Phoenix, whom I shall be honored to meet for the first time in court later today. I honestly did not expect the presence of our new... Jade Consort?”

“Grand Prince Consort,” Xiumin corrects, still with his nose pressed against Jongdae’s undertunic. “He is to be addressed by the court as ‘Augustum.’ Make sure everyone knows.”

“As our Jade Emperor commands,” Kyungsoo says with an audible smile before the chamber door clicks shut.

Xiumin huffs hot against Jongdae’s back. “Please extend forgiveness to Archchancellor Do,” the Jade Emperor says, speech far more formal with his wife than with the man who’d just left. “He is the Jade Emperor’s milk-brother, and as such is permitted informalities when in private. He will henceforth accord my Phoenix every formality due the Grand Prince Consort.” He shows no signs of removing himself from the bed or releasing his wife’s body.

“There is nothing to forgive, Augustus,” Jongdae manages to reply. “Your Phoenix appreciates being extended so much respect, but in private among close associates, excessive formalities seem unnecessary, if it pleases the Jade Emperor.”

Especially since Jongdae is currently ignoring the close association of a thick length nestled snugly against his backside. He just as pointedly ignores his own morning arousal, which seems oddly stimulated by the pressure behind and on top of him. 

A moment later, Xiumin sighs, then rolls onto his back. “That does seem reasonable, considering our decidedly informal current situation. I’d apologize for invading your space, but honestly, I haven’t slept that well in ages. I am sorry to have made you uncomfortable, though.”

“Again, there is nothing to forgive,” Jongdae answers, taking the opportunity to slip out of bed and wrap himself in the silk robe, keeping his back to his husband to shield his arousal from view. “I’ll just freshen up and get dressed so as not to keep you waiting.”

“Send your valet to me before you dress,” Xiumin says as Jongdae pulls open the chamber door.

“As you wish, Augustus,” Jongdae says with an awkward bow before he makes a less-than-dignified dash for his own quarters.

Jongdae’s blush finally subsides as he washes himself with a basin of water and a cake of sweetly-floral soap. After starting the morning so awkwardly, the visit with the Dowager Empress seems much less intimidating. At least he’ll have clothes on to meet his husband’s mother.

#  ♔♡♕

Xiumin can’t help but smile as he extends his elbow for his wife when Jongdae exits the Phoenix’s chambers. He’d sent his wife’s valet off with an armload of padded silk shirts quilted with gold embroidery, choosing semi-formal styles and a variety of colors that would compliment Jakhan’s famous indigo-black. It seems likely that his wife had packed at least one pair of unadorned trousers in his kingdom’s signature shade.

He had, and he’d paired it with a hip-length cobalt blue shirt with full-length sleeves—no surprise, as the southerner likely isn’t accustomed to the chill still present in Guri in the late spring. His valet had managed to pin one of the Phoenix’s less-formal crowns to Jongdae’s natural hair with pins accented with yet more sapphires. The gold filigree of the light circlet looks surprisingly regal atop his thick black waves despite the fact that Jakhan men wear their hair short instead of the topknot customary for the men of Lohoryeo. 

Jongdae’s eyes are lightly lined and sapphire studs adorn his earlobes, alone on the left while a golden teardrop dangles below the one on the right. His nails are bare but his fingers are bedecked with several gold rings, some accented with more sapphires and some without. Around his neck is the golden torc of the Phoenix, the bird’s wings of golden flame curving elegantly around Jongdae’s throat. 

The Jade Emperor’s wife is stunning, even if he’s not at all feminine.

Jongdae takes Xiumin’s proffered arm with a shy little smile and they set off for the Dowager Empress’s chambers. They’re on the far end of the palace, and Xiumin smiles again to notice his wife trying to see everything they’re passing without looking like that’s what he’s doing.

“The Dowager Empress is not a patient woman, but we will have a little time to linger on the way back if it pleases you,” he offers, strangely enjoying Jongdae’s resultant blush.

But he doesn’t enjoy the flush that creeps up his wife’s neck in response to his mother’s blatant scrutiny. The Dowager Empress looks even more intimidating than usual in formal attire and bedecked with all the adornments of her rank and station.

Thankfully, Jongdae seems unaffected by the obvious display of power, though he proffers a deeply respectful bow as Xiumin presents his bride.

“Mother, I am honored to present to you our Grand Prince Consort,” Xiumin says. “My Phoenix, it is my privilege to introduce our venerable Dowager Empress.”

“Evidently the  _ only _ Empress,” the woman sniffs, scowling as Xiumin seats his wife at the round wooden table before assisting his mother.

Jongdae says nothing in response, keeping his eyes demurely downcast though his spine is straight.

“And I’m evidently not venerable enough if you saw fit to ignore my advice and marry this…  _ boy. _ ”

Xiumin frowns. This situation isn’t at all Jongdae’s fault, and he won’t have his wife bullied in return for sacrificing himself to the treaty his kingdom depends on.

“My Phoenix is a mere two years younger than your son,” he points out, voice deliberately gentle. “And he outranks you. I would ask that you treat him with the respect he deserves.”

“The council believes you bedded him,” the Dowager Empress continues as if Jongdae weren’t even in the room. “He’s not even  _ pretty. _ ”

“He is my wife, and I am quite satisfied with his looks,” Xiumin defends. “You have raised me to be a man of honor, so it seems rather unfair of you to object when I uphold my sworn signature.”

“You should have demanded a girl, even if she were underage.” The Dowager Empress slices her fruit more viciously than necessary.

“I already have two children to raise,” Xiumin counters. “I have no use for another. My Phoenix will be an excellent parent, and he is a Prince of the Blood. I am happy with the match, so I’d thank you to accept the Jade Emperor’s decision.”

“I cannot stop you from continuing this ridiculous excuse for a marriage,” his mother spits. “But I insist the twins be moved to the gold nursery. I will dishonor myself to take up residence in the concubine’s quarters to supervise the raising of my grandchildren and save them from this warped situation.”

“You may choose whichever unoccupied quarters you wish,” Xiumin says, voice hardening slightly. “But you will not take my wife’s wards from him. The imperial heirs are his to raise, and his word concerning their care will only be overruled by my own. You will not make trouble for him when he’s come all this way to uphold the treaty.”

Unhappy about his wife’s continued silence and his empty plate, Xiumin places fruit and rice and pastry onto the polished bronze in front of Jongdae before filling his own plate.

He frowns when Jongdae doesn’t move.

Deciding to cut to the chase, Xiumin sets his plate down with a sigh. “Mother. You know I value your advice most highly, but my Phoenix and I are fulfilling obligations already set. Do you begrudge your son a helpmate? And did you invite us to breakfast merely to berate us?”

“I invited the Jade Emperor and his Empress to breakfast,” his mother replies. “This boy may be your wife, but he will never be an Empress.”

“He is still my Phoenix,” Xiumin argues, feeling his temper fray. His mother has always been opinionated and obstinate, and he’d heard rumors she’d bullied the Guardian Phoenix, though his late wife had denied any mistreatment. He will evidently have to set firm boundaries to prevent her from harassing his new Phoenix.

Except his Phoenix seems capable of setting his own boundaries. He pushes his chair back from the table, gaze still lodged on his own knees. 

“Your Phoenix would spare the venerable Dowager Empress the distaste of further association and return to quarters, if it please Your Imperial Highness.” Jongdae’s voice is pitched perfectly formal and polite, yet it carries an undertone of steel. 

“That is unnecessary,” Xiumin tries to assure his wife. “I would have you at my side.”

Jongdae sets his jaw before he speaks again, eyes still downcast. “Your Phoenix will of course remain if the Jade Emperor wishes,” he says. Then he raises his eyes to meet the Dowager Empress’s disdainful gaze. “But if it pleases the Jade Emperor, your Phoenix would check on the imperial heirs.”

Xiumin has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. His wife’s silence evidently does not indicate submission.

“They are your wards,” he says, standing to hand his wife to his feet. “I’m sure they will benefit immensely from your presence.”

He walks Jongdae to the door, then offers an apologetic bow. “I would escort you myself, but I’d better stay and attempt to talk some sense into my mother,” he says. He holds the door for his wife, then beckons for one of the guards flanking the door to step out of formation. “Sir Zitao, the Grand Prince Consort is to be escorted to the Phoenix quarters,” he commands. “You will entertain any inquiries my Phoenix has on the way, and when the Grand Prince Consort has no further need of you, you will tell the kitchens to send breakfast to the Phoenix quarters.”

“Of course, Your Imperial Highness,” Sir Zitao answers, folding his long body into a deeply respectful bow to the Jade Emperor and then another to the Grand Prince Consort. 

“If it please Your Imperial Highness, the Phoenix’s chambers are this way.” Sir Zitao offers a polite smile that Jongdae returns, then they set off down the hallway.

Xiumin takes three deep breaths, then turns back into the Dowager Empress’s parlor to continue to ruin what had started out as a very nice morning.

#  ♕♡♔

Jongdae tries not to take his disappointment out on the tall, wiry guard escorting him back to his chambers, though he does decline the man’s offers of a tour or even descriptions of what they’re passing. Evidently used to grumpy imperials, the guard leads the rest of the way in silence, and by the time they make it to the phoenix-carved door, Jongdae is calm enough to be a little ashamed of himself.

“Thank you for your assistance, Sir Zitao,” he says, offering an apologetic smile and a grateful bow.

Sir Zitao’s answering bow is deep and his smile seems genuine. “It is always an honor to be of service,” he says. “If Your Imperial Highness will pardon a lowly guard for remarking on the Grand Prince Consort’s appearance, that eyeliner and dangling earring really suit our new Imperial Phoenix.”

Jongdae lifts his brows a little at the guard’s bold words, but considering how many insults he’d just endured, he’s not going to protest a compliment from any source.

“No pardon necessary,” he says, then offers another bow and slinks into the safety of his chambers as soon as it’s politely returned.

He lets himself sigh and pout for a minute, then remembers his stated reason for returning and perks up. He practically skips across the room to the plain wooden door that leads to the nursery, opening it slowly and carefully so as not to awaken the sleeping infants. 

“Good morrow, Your Imperial Highness,” the wet nurse greets. “It’s always a pleasure to have the Imperial Phoenix visit.”

Jongdae smiles in relief and his shoulders loosen a bit at the welcoming words. “Evidently not everyone in the palace thinks so,” he remarks wryly. “But I’m glad you do, because I plan to visit whenever I have a moment free.”

It turns out Jongdae has a lot of moments free. In fact, after that afternoon’s court session where the Grand Prince Consort is officially introduced to all the chancellors and courtiers, he doesn’t see his new husband for weeks. Still, every day Jongdae gets up early and dresses carefully just in case he were to be summoned to fulfill some other duty rather than learning to support an infant’s head and change imperial diapers.

It’s a bit of a shame, because the clothing provided periodically by the tailor is gorgeous; well-made and perfectly-fitted. His bridal gifts had turned out to contain a lot of jewelry and fancy toiletries, most of which are actually intended for men to Jongdae’s immense surprise and appreciation. He’s fairly sure the impressive nature of the clothes, jewelry, and exotic scents are entirely lost on Jade Princess Sohee and Jade Prince Sehun (though Baekhyun frequently informs the Grand Prince Consort that his aroma is pleasing).

The infants do seem to appreciate Jongdae’s lullabies, though, and Jongdae enjoys singing them to sleep every night. He also enjoys the journal he’d found perched at the very top of the pile of bridal gifts, wrapped in cloth of gold with dragons embroidered on the fabric to indicate who the gift was from. The book is bound in sturdy leather dyed indigo-black, with Jakhan’s magpie picked out in tiny black and white beads against a circle of crimson ones.

It’s beautiful, and the parchment inside is thick enough that Jongdae can write on both sides without the ink bleeding through. He rations himself to filling only a single page each day with his thoughts and plans and anecdotes about the infants that are his new purpose in life. He’s happy, or so he tells himself. He’s content to be ignored by the imperial palace and his imperial husband and raise his sister’s kids in seclusion.

“It’s too bad the Jade Emperor is so busy,” he remarks to the wet nurse, a woman called Gookjoo whose youngest son, Jongin, is nine months older than the imperial twins. 

“I am sure running an empire takes a lot of time and attention,” the woman answers diplomatically as always, though once she’d shown Jongdae how to properly clean and dry an imperial infant’s dramatically soiled undercarriage, he’d laughingly informed Gookjoo that they were basically family and as such could speak more comfortably with each other.

“Still,” Jongdae frowns. “It’s a shame he’s unable to even see his children.”

Gookjoo tilts her head. “He sees them every day,” she says.

Jongdae tilts his own head right back.

“He visits every night,” the wet nurse elaborates. “For a good hour or so. He cuddles them and asks about a dozen questions as to how they’re doing. He asks about you, too, Augustum.”

“Huh,” is all Jongdae can think to say to that. “And what do you tell him? About me, I mean.”

“That you’re eating well and sleeping enough, that you look handsome in all your fine clothes and fancy jewelry, that you’re in here all day, and that you take such great care of your charges that, if you were capable of feeding them, there’d be no need for me.” She smiles.

Jongdae’s answering smile is a little reserved. “Well. I would definitely need your wisdom and guidance in any case. But I guess that’s good, then. That he sees them, I mean.” 

He tries not to feel hurt that the Jade Emperor makes time for his children but not his wife. There’s no reason for him to spend time with Jongdae, and in her letters Junhee had mentioned that she felt like she only saw her husband during formal events. Then again, Junhee had been six months pregnant at the time, huge with the twins. Surely when she was more mobile, she’d joined her husband at court, and almost certainly he’d joined her in bed.

The Jade Emperor has made it very clear that he’s not going to join Jongdae in bed, and after the extremely tense formal introduction where half of the court had stared at him like he was some foreign animal they’d never seen before and the other half had eyed him with disgust, Jongdae’s not surprised he hasn’t been asked to accompany his husband again.

Still, as much as he adores his niece and nephew, moving from his bedchamber to the parlor to the nursery and back without ever leaving the Phoenix’s chambers is getting a little stifling.

“Since it’s getting warmer, could you ask the Jade Emperor if we could take the twins out to the garden for some air?” Then he furrows his brow. “Do you even have a garden? There must be a garden.”

Gookjoo laughs. “There is a garden, and it’s lovely this time of year. The twins are six weeks old; the airing would be good for them as long as it’s warm enough.”

Jongdae blinks. “Have I really been here over a month?”

Gookjoo nods. “Time flies when the hands are busy,” she smiles.

“I guess.” He yawns. “Speaking of time, I believe it’s time for me to sing our babies to sleep before I fall asleep myself.”

#  ♔♡♕

As he has every night for close to two months, Xiumin hovers outside the door to the nursery, listening to his wife sing his children to sleep. Jongdae has a truly exceptional voice, worthy of a balladeer, and he hopes his children grow to properly appreciate their nightly serenades. 

He’s grown familiar with his wife’s repertoire, and when there’s only one verse left to go on the third song, Xiumin creeps back to his own chambers to wait for his wife to go to bed. He spends the half hour looking over yet more of the neverending stream of reports, in this case agricultural projections. He circles a few cities and puts stars by a few others, noting which were likely to have surpluses versus deficits. He needs to be prepared to move food efficiently from where it would rot in the fields to where his people need it.

When his candle has burned past the next hour mark, he picks the holder up to light the way through the Phoenix’s darkened parlor to the room that holds those worth more to him than all the gold in his treasuries. Gookjoo greets him with a smile as she always does and dutifully launches into the recitation of his children’s day, no longer needing to hear his questions before she answers them.

He nods along, cuddling Sohee to his chest, smiling down at his sleeping daughter as she fusses a bit before settling against him with a tiny little sigh. “And my Phoenix?” he asks when the litany of consumption, excretion, waking hours versus naps, exercise, milestone updates, and so on has finally ceased.

“The usual, Your Imperial Highness,” she answers a little sadly as he kisses his tiny princess before setting her down and gathering up his tiny prince. “Your Phoenix adores the Jade Princess and Prince, but this servant believes the Grand Prince Consort feels himself a disappointment to the Jade Emperor. Your Phoenix thinks Your Imperial Highness is ashamed of his wife and thus is hiding that wife away.”

“I am not,” Xiumin states definitively. “He is an excellent wife and I could not be more pleased. I am shielding him, not hiding him. The courtiers are cruel to each other and everyone else, and I won’t have them slurring my Phoenix for imagined faults.”

“Slurs circulate about your Phoenix anyway,” Gookjoo reports. “When this servant’s sister brings their milk-brother to be nursed, she asks if such rumors are true. This servant of course sets the record straight, but tales are being spread that the Phoenix is deformed, or ill, or an imbecile, or that the Jade Emperor’s wife doesn’t exist at all.”

Xiumin frowns, resting his lips against Sehun’s downy hair. He grapples with himself, wanting to keep his perfect wife in a protective bubble yet wanting to prove the detractors wrong. If his people are going to disparage Jongdae anyway, perhaps it’s better if they disparage him for things that are closer to the truth.

“The midsummer revelry is this month,” he murmurs, then lifts his face from Sehunnie’s scalp. “I will be sure to show him off properly then. I will make sure the tailor knows I expect perfection. Perhaps I should commission some jewelry for the occasion.”

“If the Jade Emperor wishes to favor the Phoenix with a gift, the Grand Prince Consort has almost filled the journal that was a bridegroom gift.”

“Really?” Xiumin says, setting Sehun back in his crib, now an entire forearm’s length away from Sohee’s. They still turn toward each other in their sleep, to the point where they have to alternate which baby uses which crib so as to allow their skulls to develop normally.

“The Phoenix writes in it every day,” Gookjoo reports. “And also sits and strokes the beaded magpie on the cover when the Grand Prince Consort’s mind wanders.”

Xiumin smiles. “If he likes writing, he shall have all the journals he desires.”

He commissions a whole set of journals the very next day after quizzing Gookjoo on which colors his wife seems to favor. And he spends the better part of an hour watching Jongdae play peek-a-boo with the twins in the garden, smiling down at the sight from the window of the council chamber.

“What is that strange expression on the Jade Emperor’s face?” an amused voice rumbles, and Xiumin is rolling his eyes even as he points his smile at his Archchancellor.

“My children are precious,” he states. “I intend to make this expression at them a lot.”

Kyungsoo smiles back, then gazes out the window at the sight of the Grand Prince Consort dirtying his trousers in the grass, crouching beside the baby carriages to hide before popping back into view.

“I see,” Kyungsoo agrees. “And what about your wife?”

“What about him?” It’s kind of endearing how Jongdae’s lips curl up at the corners, like he’s smiling before he smiles.

“Is he precious, too?”

“Of course,” Xiumin agrees immediately. “I am beyond lucky to have him.”

“I wonder what expression he’d make if he knew you felt that way,” Kyungsoo ruminates.

“I’m sure he knows,” Xiumin dismisses. “Gookjoo says he knows I ask after him.”

“Does that mean you think he’s precious?” Kyungsoo asks. “Or does that mean you’re only willing to be updated by a third party rather than talk to him yourself?”

Xiumin frowns at his Archchancellor. “He’s asleep by the time my empire allows me a moment for my family,” he defends. “He works so hard for me—I would not disturb his well-earned rest.”

Kyungsoo only lifts a brow, then gazes out the window with him for several companionable minutes.

“I bet he’s beyond excited about the midsummer revelry,” the Archchancellor theorizes as he walks away.

#  ♕♡♔

Jongdae is so excited he’s having a hard time holding still as Baekhyun applies a thin line of kohl around his eyes. He manages through a concerted effort, because he doesn’t want to go to the revelry with an injured eye.

“There,” Baekhyun says, leaning back with a smile. “Would Your Imperial Highness desire lip color?”

“Am I supposed to have it?”

Baekhyun gives him a sidelong look. “There are many things some may argue Your Imperial Highness is supposed to have,” he answers. “But since the Grand Prince Consort outranks all of them, that’s whose wishes matter to your valet.”

Jongdae grins at his loyal valet. “There is one who outranks me whose wishes definitely matter,” he chides.

“And when asked how the Grand Prince Consort should be made ready for the ball, the Jade Emperor said, and I quote: “My Phoenix always looks splendid. Your job is to make sure he feels comfortable and confident.”

Jongdae lets his head drop back in amused exasperation. On the one hand, it’s nice that his husband is entirely content to allow Jongdae to be himself. On the other, it would be kind of nice if he had some kind of preferences to work with. It’s impossible to impress the man if Jongdae doesn’t know what he likes.

The Grand Prince Consort hasn’t been seen in public since the day after the wedding. He wants to seem like a closely-guarded jewel rather than a shamefully-hidden troll.

Even if he actually  _ is _ a shamefully-hidden troll.

“What do  _ you _ think?” he asks Baekhyun, trusting his valet to know the trends.

“Your valet might recommend a subtle tint, just to ensure the Phoenix’s lips aren’t completely eclipsed by his eyes,” Baekhyun says. “And perhaps a bold sweep of gold dust on the Phoenix’s lovely cheekbones.”

Jongdae nods. “And a dangly earring—I’ve been told that’s a good look for me.”

“Your valet would agree,” Baekhyun says, and then Jongdae has to hold still some more while the requested cosmetics and jewelry are added to his face.

When he’s finally ready, he awaits his husband in his parlor, bemused by the fact that the Jade Emperor is right behind the dragon-carved door beside him, yet he plans to go out into the hallway and knock on the Phoenix’s chamber door as if he’d travelled across town to pick him up.

When the knock finally does come, it’s all he can do to sit graciously in a wingback chair and let Baekhyun answer the door. But then he’s glad he’s sitting, because the Jade Emperor is both stunning and alarming in equal measure.

He’s stunning because he’s Xiumin, elegantly carved of jade as his cognomen implies. And for the ball, his valet has smudged kohl at the outer corners of his eyes to make them even bigger and more mysterious, dabbed gold at the inner corners of his eyes and swept it sparingly over his cheeks and down the bridge of his nose, and stained his pouty lips a color so like a berry Jongdae is struck by the strangest urge to taste them. Then he remembers that he  _ has _ tasted them once, and that it had made him so nervous his stomach had fluttered alarmingly, so it’s for the best that the tasting option is completely off the table from now on.

Most of Jongdae’s current anxiety comes from the fact that the Jade Emperor is wearing his indigo-black wedding shirt. The one that Jongdae had painstakingly embroidered with golden thread in the back of a rocking carriage over the course of the week-long journey from Jakhan to Guri. 

The one where more than a few of the tigers closely resemble house cats instead of Lohoryeo’s fierce emblem.

“My Phoenix always looks handsome, but tonight my wife sparkles a little more,” Xiumin offers, reaching out a hand boasting black-lacquered fingernails streaked with gold.

“The Jade Emperor is too kind,” Jongdae breathes as he numbly sets his own gold-varnished fingertips in his husband’s outstretched palm. “Truly, it is the Jade Emperor who outshines all the stars.”

“Such flattery is entirely unnecessary,” Xiumin laughs as he tugs Jongdae to his feet. “The Jade Emperor is already happily wed to his Phoenix.”

Still a little stunned, Jongdae lets his husband lead him out the door and through the palace, blushing beneath the gold powder on his face. He may have been raised for the abbey, but that doesn’t mean he’d been entirely blind to the ways of courtship. This whole exchange seems an awful lot like flirting, and he has no idea how to feel about that.

But he definitely feels a little queasy when they enter the great hall to a trumpet fanfare and the entire assembly rises as they make their way to the dais. He’s sure everyone’s going to notice that the Jade Emperor is wearing a shirt embroidered by a child, reduced to a tabby cat instead of a tiger. His stomach flips again when he realizes the Jade Emperor may as well be invisible for all the attention his subjects are paying him.

Every pair of eyes in the room is locked onto Jongdae as he strolls up the crimson strip of carpet toward the elevated table at the back of the room.

He pastes on a gentle smile as Xiumin escorts him to the imperial table, bobbing his head in thanks when the Jade Emperor pulls out his chair and seats him before sinking into his own high-backed wooden seat. While Jongdae’s chair is surmounted by a phoenix and Xiumin’s with a dragon, the chairs are also carved with tigers, providing any onlooker that bothers to glance at the Jade Emperor with a shining example with which to compare the poor imitations spangling his shirt.

But again, nobody seems to be looking at the Jade Emperor. Jongdae can feel the weight of the hundreds of gazes as his husband serves him meat and vegetables and rice and wine, nodding his thanks as each tidbit hits his plate. He waits politely for the Jade Emperor to serve himself and gesture to the entertainment before he begins to eat. Then Jongdae uses his best table manners, maintains perfect posture, and barely touches his wine. He’d prefer to barely touch his food, since his stomach is tied in a tiny knot, but that’s not an option when ignoring a dish is viewed as an insult to the cook. Jongdae dutifully eats everything put on his plate, leaving a tiny bit of each dish behind as a signal that he doesn’t want more. 

He barely lifts his eyes from the table, and when he does, he tries to concentrate on the acrobats and jugglers performing in the midst of the hall. He looked at his husband exactly once—but the Dowager Empress was seated on the Jade Emperor’s other side, and she’d been glaring at Jongdae as if she’d be able to set him on fire by doing so.

He tries not to let the elder woman’s distaste crush his spirit entirely, but the entertainment is loud enough that there’s no possibility for conversation. And that means Jongdae’s thoughts are left to bounce around off of each other, and given his current high-strung state, they’re not bouncing anywhere good.

They end up in places like  _ maybe the Jade Emperor has been ignoring you because his mother has convinced him you’re entirely unsuitable. _

He tries to counter this with reminders that Xiumin had complimented him earlier, had smiled, had offered his arm. But the Jade Emperor is well-trained in diplomacy, so it could have all been an act. 

_ He didn’t seem to hate you when his arm was around you and his dick was hard against your ass. _

Except that’s not really a comfort because he’d been asleep; he’d been used to having a warm and willing woman in his bed. His body was going to respond to warmth and proximity and curves that his mind would reject if it were conscious.

Sure he hadn’t pushed Jongdae away, but that was for show. He’d needed someone to see them entwined.

He’d seemed so attentive on their wedding night and all day afterward, but between his mother’s scorn and the court’s uncertain reception, it really seems that the Jade Emperor is content to keep his wife locked away where he can’t tarnish his husband’s reputation.

It doesn’t help that the Jade Emperor is evidently fascinated by the acrobats, watching them with a subdued smile. Especially the contortionists. The very  _ female _ contortionists. Even though Jongdae’s own politely-interested smile is manufactured, he can’t give his husband the benefit of the doubt. The longer the evening goes on, the more the stares from the crowd and the glares from the Dowager Empress persist, the more the Jade Emperor seems to enjoy the entertainment, the more Jongdae becomes convinced of his place in the world.

He’s not a wife. He’s a nanny. One that must be dressed up and dragged out when societal convention demands the Jade Emperor have a partner, but hidden away the rest of the time.

And of course dressing him up means more hairpins, still painfully tight despite the fact that he’s been growing his hair out. He’s not sure if he’s doing it to soften the angles of his unwifely face or if he’s doing it so he can wear his hair in a topknot like the other men of Guri, but it’s not serving him in either regard as of yet. It’s just annoying, even when it’s not being used as scaffolding for a heavy gold crown.

But then the meal is over and the tables are being cleared, and the imperial family is re-seated on the dais in ornately-carved thrones. Jongdae sits demurely beside his husband, doing his best to appear regal and worthy of being at the Jade Emperor’s side despite his gender. But then his heart lifts a bit when the music begins and the Jade Emperor draws him up to dance with a smile.

Only to crash back down again when he realizes that, while he’s been taught to dance, he’s not been taught to dance the female parts, and of course that’s what he’s about to be expected to perform.

He does his best to adapt to the once-familiar dances from the other side of the embrace, and it’s just as well that he’s having to concentrate on where he’s placing his feet because that way he can more easily ignore how warm his husband’s fingers are. The Jade Emperor is as good a leader on the dance floor as he is everywhere else, and Jongdae is grateful that his husband is skilled enough to cover Jongdae’s lack of confidence and occasional mis-step. But he’s also having a hard time not adding another item to the “ways the Jade Emperor outclasses his poor excuse for a wife” list he’s been composing in his head all evening.

Then the dance is over and the imperial couple are bowing to each other and the crowd before Xiumin leads his wife back to the dais to passively consume the rest of the evening’s festivities. And actively consume wine, in the Jade Emperor’s case; to the point where the Dowager Empress is shooting her son condemning looks that he entirely ignores.

But the goblet of wine in the Jade Emperor’s right hand isn’t what concerns Jongdae. It’s the fact that his own right hand is still firmly clasped in his husband’s left, the man’s arm stretched in a way that must be uncomfortable so as to rest their hands on the arm of Jongdae’s throne. 

It seems to concern a lot of other people, too, because if Jongdae thought he’d been stared at before, he’s now being blasted with the visual attention of the crowd. When Jongdae tries to gently extricate his fingers, the Jade Emperor merely turns and smiles at him, and what can Jongdae do besides smile back and resign himself to being stared at for hours?

It would have been almost tolerable if the damnable man hadn’t started rubbing circles with his thumb on the top of Jongdae’s hand.

#  ♔♡♕

Xiumin suppresses his sighs and swallows his disappointment along with his wine. His wife is so dutiful and brave, and his people are not making life easy for the man. 

Jongdae had been so excited when he’d collected him from the Phoenix’s chambers, and he’d obviously taken great pains to look good for Xiumin and for their people. But his smile only becomes more and more tense as the night goes on, despite Xiumin’s efforts to support and distract his wife.

So Xiumin goes about distracting himself, letting the wine blur the stares of his people until all he can see is his wife’s hand in his. Jongdae still seems tense, though he’s doing an admirable job of hiding it.

Xiumin tries to enjoy the rest of the entertainment, but it’s hard not to compare the reedy tenor accompanying the symphony to his own wife’s incredible voice. Tonight’s vocalist is good, but Jongdae is easily better. The thought makes Xiumin wish he were leaning against the wall in his wife’s parlor listening to the man he married sing their children to sleep.

Yes,  _ their _ children. He’ll never forget the woman who had died to give them to him, even if they’d barely been acquaintances. She’d still been dutiful and brave, just like her brother, and if the traits run from sibling to sibling, hopefully his own children will end up with them, too.

But while the Guardian Phoenix had contributed her blood, Jongdae is contributing his sweat and tears, and at times Xiumin feels guilty for merely contributing his seed. He’d put in the minimum of effort and is reaping the maximum rewards.

He is so, so grateful, and it makes him as protective of his new wife as he is of the children he’s raising. He wishes he could whisk the man out of here and then whisk the tension out of his shoulders, but his Archchancellor is right as usual. Hiding Jongdae away has only made him more of a curiosity. Of course his people are going to stare, considering many of them have never seen his wife before. They just need to ride this out, let the world become accustomed to seeing the handsome man at Xiumin’s side, and then they’ll move on to some other topic of gossip and obsession soon enough.

It would be nice if his own mother cooperated with Xiumin’s desires to make the Gilded Palace a comfortable home for his wife, though. She’s still entirely disapproving of Jongdae and his association with Xiumin and his access to their children, and is becoming more and more difficult to deal with as he continuously deflects her venom from reaching the man who has done nothing but work hard to be a good wife to the Jade Emperor.

Jongdae had even embroidered a wedding shirt for him. With his own sturdy fingers. Xiumin knows, because the stitchery is slightly imperfect, the concerted efforts of an amateur rather than the easy work of skilled fingers. The inside of the shirt is an absolute mess of knots and leaps and tangles, making Xiumin’s heart squeeze at the obvious struggle his wife had endured to get the outside of the shirt to look as good as it does. It’s not perfect, but it is beautiful, and Xiumin is as proud of his wife’s efforts as if he’d embroidered it himself. 

When had Jongdae even found the time? Even if he’d known how to embroider before, he can’t have known he’d be taking his sister’s place more than eight days before he’d been standing on the dais in bridal regalia. The fact that he’d ensured Xiumin had a shirt—not one he’d bought or commissioned another to create on his behalf, but one his own fingers had stitched—absolutely humbles the Jade Emperor. Is there nothing Jongdae can’t do if told duty requires it? 

Xiumin is starting to think his wife would grow a pair of wings and fly if he believed it his responsibility to do so. Hadn’t he even offered Xiumin his body? Had even brought some type of preparations to the Jade Emperor’s bed? How exceptional can a single man manage to be?

Maybe it’s the royal blood of Jakhan that’s exceptional, in which case Xiumin is doubly blessed to have it flowing through the veins of his perfect little heirs.

He loves them so much. It makes him feel even more guilty, because he hadn’t felt even a fraction as strongly about their mother. His feelings for his children are far stronger than anything he’s ever felt for anyone else. The only people to even come close are his baby sister and his milk brother.

And Jongdae. More and more each time he sees the man coo over his children or hears him sing them to sleep. When Gookjoo tells him of their daily adventures and claims Jongdae is always the one to notice first when the babies are wet—not because Gookjoo is at all inadequate, but because Jongdae only takes his eyes off one twin to fasten them on the other, tripping down the garden paths because he’s watching the children instead of his own feet.

Right now, Jongdae’s watching his own kneecaps, with occasional glances up as the fire-eaters spit gouts of flames to the delight of the crowd. He’s still wearing his public smile, the expression only convincing if a person didn’t know that Jongdae’s lips naturally flick upwards on the ends. But Xiumin has seen Jongdae’s actual smile—mostly directed at his children, and mostly from a distance, but still—and it bothers the Jade Emperor that his always-giving wife had anticipated an exciting evening and has ended up suffering through it.

Xiumin is relieved when the last act takes their bows so that after a polite length of time he can stand up, draw his wife to his feet with the hand still clasped in his own, say goodnight to the crowd, and escort his wife to privacy.

Except the cupboys had evidently filled his goblet more often than he’d realized, and instead of a protective arm around Jongdae’s shoulders, it’s a stabilizing one. Jongdae, as he does everything, bears this surprise responsibility with good grace, slipping an arm around Xiumin’s waist to provide further support and exiting the hall at a pace slow enough to keep him from tripping, but not slow enough that it’s obvious the Jade Emperor is unsteady on his feet. Instead, sturdy little Jongdae bears yet another burden, shouldering Xiumin’s weight and letting it look like the imperial couple is just affectionate as they wave to the crowd and make their escape.

And then Xiumin is treated to yet another delight as his perfectly-presentable wife drops formalities with him entirely as he hauls the Jade Emperor up the stairs to their chamber.

“Oof, you really are a block of jade, aren’t you? You’re not even taller than me—how exactly are you so heavy? I mean, I know you’re rippling with muscle, but seriously—could you maybe use two or three of those muscles to hold your drunk ass up?”

Xiumin laughs.

“Oh! I didn’t realize you were conscious enough to understand the words of your Phoenix.”

Xiumin almost pouts at the increased level of formality, avoiding it only because Jongdae hasn’t reverted to the ultra-formal speech the rest of the world uses with him. But then Jongdae continues to delight his intoxicated husband.

“In that case, can you use two or three of your rippling muscles to hold your  _ imperial _ drunk ass up?”

Xiumin guffaws, making Jongdae grumble further because the laughing drunkard is even more boneless than previously.

“You’re so great,” he tells his wife. “So, so great.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Jongdae says as he smiles sweetly to the guards who promptly hold open the door to the Dragon’s chambers. 

But Jongdae declines further help, more than able to haul Xiumin’s weight into the room and toss him onto the sofa. The Guardian Phoenix had been built sturdily, seemingly more so than her tiny-waisted brother. But Jongdae is a man, after all. His strength may not be obvious, but it’s there.

Xiumin is glad. He likes having a strong wife. Jongdae is so, so strong.

A damp cloth passes over his face and Xiumin sputters, lifting an arm to halt the motion.

“You can’t fall asleep with all that makeup on your face,” Jongdae huffs. “It’s bad for your skin. We can’t have our perfect jade sculpture breaking out.”

Xiumin laughs, releasing Jongdae’s wrist and lying pliant as his wife erases the pigment and powder from his face.

“You’re the best. Carved from jade, huh?” He giggles, letting his hand slip from Jongdae’s arm to his side, then sliding it down to finally examine that tiny waist for himself. “How are you so strong?”

“Because I have to be,” Jongdae answers, slipping from his grasp when Xiumin’s hand wanders to his ass. 

Xiumin pouts, because he only got a fleeting impression of a firm curve beneath his palm before it eluded him. But then he sighs with pleasure, because Jongdae’s fingers are deftly pulling pins from his hair, releasing his scalp from the heavy burden of the imperial crown. He can’t suppress further sighs and even a few moans as Jongdae undoes his topknot and finger-combs his hair. He’s vaguely aware that he’s embarrassing himself, but Jongdae’s clever fingers feel too good to control himself.

He has a fleeting thought about what else those fingers might be able to do before shame washes over him, rendering him silent as Jongdae’s hands abandon him in punishment for his dishonorable ideas.

But just as Xiumin is starting to overflow with remorse, Jongdae’s back, sans makeup and headpiece himself and wearing his phoenix-embroidered night robe. Elated at his wife’s return, Xiumin’s smile is broad as he does his best to assist Jongdae in hauling him up and dragging him through the propped-open door to his bedchamber. When a still-chuckling Xiumin is sprawled bonelessly over the bed, Jongdae heaves a beleaguered sigh.

“You’re incapable of undressing yourself, aren’t you?” he asks, but it doesn’t sound much like a question.

Xiumin fumbles at his fly.

“Okay, well, we definitely know where your mind is,” Jongdae mutters, then fingers are unbuttoning his shirt. 

Xiumin’s hands are swatted away from his groin before tugs on the cuffs cause them to slip within the sleeves.

“Help me a little, you immobile lump,” Jongdae complains as he fights to liberate the Jade Emperor from his shirt.

“‘M a sculpture,” Xiumin laughs, but when his wife huffs, he tries his best to force his limbs into motion.

There’s a lot of muttering (and even some very un-wife-like cursing) but eventually Xiumin is stripped to his undertunic and smallclothes. Jongdae is just attempting to roll him beneath the sheets when there’s a knock at the sitting room door.

Jongdae sighs. “ _ Now _ the cavalry shows up,” he mutters, exiting the bedchamber and therefore Xiumin’s immediate awareness.

That’s okay, though. He can still hear Jongdae in the other room—though there seem to be several more voices than just his lovely wife’s grumpy rumble.

Maybe it’s Kyunggie, and maybe he’s brought more wine.

#  ♕♡♔

Jongdae blinks at the women who bustle through the door into the Dragon’s sitting room.

“Many thanks,” the buxom pair chirps. They don’t bow nearly as low as is generally performed for the Jade Emperor, but they still look in danger of falling out of their bodices. “We’re here to put our sexy Jade Emperor to bed  _ properly. _ ”

Their speech isn’t as formal as Jongdae has come to expect, either, which makes him think the pair of women must have an… informal relationship with the Jade Emperor. Stunned, he watches as they head right for his bedchamber as if they’ve been there many times before, one of them unbuttoning the other’s bodice on the way.

Jongdae swallows hard. This is only what he expected, and given the hand on his ass and those enthusiastic moans earlier, Xiumin is definitely in the mood. If the Jade Emperor isn’t availing himself of his wife, he’s obviously sating his needs elsewhere. Jongdae had known this was the likely eventuality. And this is good—Xiumin will be pleased, and Jongdae’s ass will be spared further attentions.

So why is Jongdae so angry about this?

“Wait, you’re not my Phoenix! Where’s my—Dae! Jongdae!”

Jongdae’s across the sitting room in a blink, wrenching open the bedchamber door to see one of the women with her bare breasts in Xiumin’s face and the other with her hand down his smallclothes. Xiumin is trying to push that hand away but his uncooperative limb keeps batting at air.

“Stop!” Jongdae bellows.

Both women startle, turning wide, heavily-made-up eyes at the sudden intruder.

Then the one with the undone bodice presses her bare breasts together beneath a smirk. “Ah, does the consort want to play, too?”

A cold flash steals the heat of anger from Jongdae’s bones. Xiumin surely doesn’t want Jongdae to join him in this type of group bedsport, does he?

“Grand Prince Consort,” Xiumin corrects. “He’s my wife—you’re not my wife.”

“But Your Imperial Highness,” the one with her hand down Xiumin’s pants purrs. “Your  _ wife _ isn’t a woman, and a virile man  _ needs _ a woman.” She gives him a little squeeze and Xiumin yelps, trying to twist away.

And that’s enough for Jongdae.

“Unhand the imperial person this instant,” he snarls. “You’ve offered your services; he’s declined.”

“I’ll  _ always _ decline,” Xiumin says. “You’re not my wife.”

The women blink at the two of them alternatingly, and when Xiumin whines and twists again, Jongdae steps forward, prepared to wrench the woman’s hand away from the Jade Emperor if necessary.

But she whimpers, too, and withdraws her hand as if burned. “So it’s true, then? The Jade Emperor beds his wife?”

“The Jade Emperor beds whom he chooses, and he does not choose you,” Jongdae spits. “He’s made himself clear, so make yourselves scarce.”

“So scary,” Xiumin breathes, blinking bleary eyes up at him from the bed, and the women evidently agree. They dart past him through the bedchamber door and across the sitting room. Jongdae doesn’t even wait for the one to tuck herself back into her bodice before ushering them out into the hall and locking the door behind them.

Xiumin is making awkward noises from the bedchamber and Jongdae hastens to return to his side, concerned that he’d flopped himself into a painful position. But he’s just laboriously turning onto one side, curling protectively around his groin, the thin smallclothes revealing that the Jade Emperor wasn’t unaffected by the manhandling.

“Oh, sorry,” Jongdae says, averting his eyes. “Um. I’ll just let you take care of that in private.”

“No,” Xiumin whines. “Don’t leave. Just gonna ignore it. ‘M really good at ignoring it.”

Guilt floods the Jade Emperor’s inadequate wife. “You shouldn’t have to ignore it,” he says. “I can call the women back—I understand you have needs I’m failing to meet.”

“No!” Xiumin protests. “You stay. You’re my wife. Not failing.” He flops a hand toward Jongdae, still hovering in the doorway.

Sighing, Jongdae gently closes the bedchamber door and crosses the candlelit room to sit on the bed beside the Jade Emperor. Xiumin gropes for his hand, then twines his fingers through Jongdae’s own.

“You’re my wife,” he repeats. “Swore a vow. Not gonna break it.”

“It’s hardly fair of me to insist that you keep it,” Jongdae says.

Xiumin’s brow furrows above his closed eyes. “ _ You’re _ keeping it.”

“I was raised expecting to be a monk,” Jongdae laughs. “I highly doubt our virile Jade Emperor has much practice at ignoring the desires of the flesh.”

“I do,” Xiumin says. “I haven’t… I never dishonored my marriage. Once Junhee was pregnant… It’s been so long. I’m just really lonely.”

Jongdae’s heart twists. “You don’t have to be lonely,” he murmurs. “I’ll never do anything to dishonor you, but the standards are different for the Jade Emperor. Your people would only expect you to satisfy yourself, especially when bound into this unsatisfying marriage.”

“Not unsatisfying,” Xiumin protests. “You’re perfect wife.”

Jongdae chuckles. “You don’t have to flatter me,” he says, echoing the Jade Emperor’s own words. “We’re already married. But I admit I’m lacking in womanly charms, and I hardly expect you to ignore your body for decades.”

“I will,” Xiumin persists, face scrunching in determination. “Only my wife will touch me. No one else. Ever.”

“You could at least touch yourself,” Jongdae suggests.

“No. Only my wife.”

Jongdae sets his jaw, uncomfortable with what he’s about to offer but unwilling to let his husband suffer.

“Do you want me to touch you now?”

Xiumin whines, curling into a tighter ball. “Won’t,” he says.

“Won’t what?”

“You. So perfect. Already do…  _ everything. _ My babies. My shirt. You… I can’t. You don’t deserve it.”

There’s a long enough pause that Jongdae thinks maybe Xiumin’s fallen asleep, but then those pouty lips part once again.

“Your family. So dutiful. Your sister...  _ died _ for duty. My fault. I can’t… I won’t defile you. You deserve… respect.”

Suddenly Jongdae’s blinking away tears and he’s not even sure why. 

He bites the inside of his cheek to keep his emotions in check, doing his best to tug the covers over the Jade Emperor with his one unentangled hand. 

“Sleep now, Augustus,” he murmurs, trying to tug his fingers free.

Xiumin only clings tighter. “Stay… My wife… So lonely.”

It’s not like Jongdae can say no to that.

He blows out the candle with a sigh, then basically climbs over his husband to get into bed while still holding his hand. As soon as Jongdae’s beneath the covers, Xiumin turns toward him, releasing his hand in favor of entrapping him within arms and legs. For once, Jongdae is grateful that even in midsummer, nights in the mountains of Guri remain cool.

“Wife,” Xiumin murmurs one last time, sounding entirely contented now that his arms are full of warmth.

Shaking his head and smiling at the drunken neediness of the most powerful man in the known world, Jongdae lets himself fall asleep.

#  ♔♡♕

Sunlight stabs into Xiumin’s eyes like the sharpest of knives as his bedroom curtains are thrown back. “Your Imperial Highness seems to have enjoyed the Dowager Empress’s little—oh!”

The sweet-smelling warmth in Xiumin’s arms squirms free. “Apologies,” it murmurs, then it’s gone.

“Stars,” breathes a voice that Xiumin recognizes as his chatty chambermaid. “He always seemed like such a respectable man.”

The pain in Xiumin’s head is not improving in the face of this assault. “Who?” he snarls. “And why have you forgotten your honorifics?”

“Many apologies, Your Imperial Highness,” the chambermaid simpers, footsteps shuffling toward the door.

“Who?” Xiumin growls again. “And what’s this about the Dowager Empress?”

He cracks open one eye to better glare at the young woman whose loose tongue is tolerated because it’s accompanied by an impeccable work ethic and a penchant for extreme tidiness. “Do not test me, Sooyeon.”

“Many apologies,” Sooyeon says again with a deep bow. She looks incredibly flustered even to Xiumin’s bleary monovision. “Your servant was unprepared for the nature of the Jade Emperor’s… companion.”

“You mean my wife?” Xiumin lifts a brow along with his other eyelid. 

“Yes. Er, no. Rather—” Sooyeon wrings her hands around her dustrag.

Xiumin only waits. The maid won’t leave until she’s dismissed, and her tongue is too active to remain silent for long.

Minutes later, she breaks. “Many apologies, Your Imperial Highness,” she whines again. “The Dowager Empress was worried about the Jade Emperor’s health, so…” Sooyeon trails off again, but Xiumin’s hangover makes him cranky, not stupid.

“So she sent courtesans to my chamber, even though I am a happily married man, as you can well see for yourself,” Xiumin snarls. “Get out, and tell the Dowager Empress to be ready for an imperial audience in half an hour.”

With a bow and a squeak, the chambermaid scurries away.

Xiumin rolls out of bed, hissing at his throbbing head and throbbing groin. He briefly longs for the prior occupant of his embrace before feeling immensely guilty. He’s treated Jongdae shamefully already, forcing him to cuddle an inebriated man. He’ll not pile dishonor upon disgrace by taking further advantage of the man’s boundless dedication to duty.

A duty he obviously doesn’t enjoy, given the haste with which he’d just departed.

Lecturing himself about how his perfect wife already suffers enough on his behalf, Xiumin dresses simply without the help of his valet. He has to berate himself some more when he pulls his hair into a topknot, because his scalp remembers just how nice Jongdae’s fingers had felt. 

But that’s just human kindness, isn’t it? His valet does similar things, and that’s not inappropriate. Perhaps he could work something out with his wife where they trade head rubs after formal events, just a mutual-caretaking sort of thing. Completely honorable and appropriate for a man to do with his wife. And Jongdae would probably enjoy it, and helping soothe any of his wife’s stress would make Xiumin feel like a better husband.

He knows he’s doing a terrible job of it otherwise.

He’d tried with Junhee. He really had, even though the wedding night had been just as awkward as exposing himself to a woman had always been. They’d consummated the marriage, repeated the act the following morning, and that was evidently all it took to ensure the continuation of the Jade bloodline at the expense of his new wife.

Junhee had become a wife, a mother, and then a corpse within a span of nine months.

Still, Xiumin had done all he could to show his appreciation for the Guardian Phoenix. He’d sent little gifts to her chambers at least once per week, had instructed his chefs to be ready to indulge any pregnancy-induced craving at any hour of the day or night, had provided a minstrel and a jester to attend her when she’d swelled so much it was difficult and dangerous for her to walk.

He’d done everything he could think of to make her life comfortable, and yet he’d killed her anyway.

And now her brother is here to pay for Xiumin’s unwitting crime. Xiumin’s determined not to let him pay for his mother’s pithiness on top of the life sentence his sister’s death condemned him to.

Plan settled in his mind, there’s a smile on his face as he greets his mother in the Dowager Empress’s parlor.

“Good morning, revered Mother,” he greets with a deeply-respectful bow. “I do hope your sleep was restful.”

“I understand yours was not,” she responds. “You look sallow and sleep-deprived. It’s entirely unacceptable for that  _ boy _ to take advantage of you in your intoxicated state.”

Xiumin snorts. “My wife always behaves respectably,” he smiles. “I am quite fortunate to have such a one.”

“A pig taught to dance is still a pig,” the Dowager Empress sniffs.

“Then it’s a good thing my Phoenix is a man,” Xiumin says. “How is your latest tapestry coming along?”

“It’s lovely, unlike that  _ boy _ you insist on bedding.”

“You were always incredibly skilled with the needle.”

“Unlike your disgrace of a wife. That embarrassment of a shirt should have been burned before it ever touched the Jade Emperor’s shoulders.”

“Yes, it is a lovely shirt, indeed. To think it was made in such a short time by a total novice! Surely even yourself could not have done better the first week you’d ever threaded a needle.”

The Dowager Empress has the good grace to snap her lips closed over her next insult at least.

“Perhaps you and Jongdae could embroider together sometime? I’m sure he’d be appreciative of a master stitcher’s instruction.” Xiumin gives her his most beguiling smile.

She scowls. “You would leave your defenseless mother alone with a strange man?”

Xiumin shrugs. “As I said, my Phoenix always behaves respectfully, but we can always have Zitao stand guard if you’re more comfortable with that.”

Her scowl deepens, but Xiumin only smiles innocently. He and his mother both know that Zitao would report any mistreatment of his Phoenix right to the Dragon himself, but for the woman to decline the guard’s services would be admitting she found Jongdae innocuous.

“I doubt I’ll have time to spare,” she says instead. “I am incredibly busy managing the palace affairs since your first wife was an invalid and this new boy is entirely ignorant.”

“All the more reason for the former Phoenix to take my new bride under her wing,” Xiumin says. “He learns quickly, so he should be able to shoulder some of your burden soon enough, taking on more and more as you pass on your wisdom.”

“I can manage just fine,” the woman sniffs.

“I know you can,” Xiumin assures her. “But my revered Mother deserves to enjoy her retirement. I would not have you worked into an early grave when a sturdy and capable protege is waiting in the wings. I am concerned enough about my mother’s health to consider sending you with Minsoo when she visits for Coronation Day, so I do hope my wife will be able to shoulder some of your load by then.”

The diminutive woman looks incredibly fierce despite her size, but she keeps silent. Xiumin has backed her neatly into a corner, so he decides to coat sores with honey.

“If you elected to instruct my wife in his chambers, you’d be able to spend time with your grandchildren,” he says. “Jongdae is raising them well—I’m sure he’d love to show them off.”

Xiumin is sure of exactly the opposite, actually. He’ll have to butter his wife up well to coax Jongdae to share his precious nestlings with the woman who’s made it clear she disapproves of him. But Jongdae is ever dutiful, so Xiumin is sure he’ll handle this new challenge with perfect grace.

#  ♕♡♔

“He wants me to  _ what? _ ”

Gookjoo laughs but Jongdae can only stare in shock and terror. He doesn’t want that hateful woman in his personal sanctuary detailing exactly how he’s failing at being a good wife and co-sovereign, and he definitely doesn’t want her poisonous tongue anywhere near his precious nestlings.

“He left you these, and promises to indulge any further whims.” Arms full of nursing infant, she gestures to a cloth-wrapped bundle in the other rocking chair.

“My  _ whim _ is to never again be forced to interact with the revered Dowager Empress,” Jongdae mutters, but he picks up the bundle and tugs the knot apart.

Inside are five new journals, bound in dyed leather and bearing beaded emblems just as the one he’s filled. The first is orange with a phoenix beaded in red and yellow. The second is the verdigris green of jade with a dragon beaded in gold. There’s a white one with Lohoryeo’s white tiger outlined in black, a blue one with a silver butterfly, and a pink one with a smirking fox’s face in red and white and black.

Jongdae stares at them, saying nothing, unsure how to feel. He’s seething and also strangely touched. Deciding to set the notebooks and feelings aside for now, Jongdae takes the books to his bedchamber, setting them reverently on the nightstand. He takes the filled notebook out of the drawer, returning with it to Gookjoo.

“Will you please give him this?” Jongdae asks.

“Of course, Augustum, but I doubt he meant it as a trade.”

“Well, I mean it as a trade. I wrote stuff about the twins in there. Song lyrics and observations and hopes for the future.”

“You also wrote about yourself, though, didn’t you? Private things?”

Jongdae shrugs. “I’m sure he’s just going to skim to find the parts about his children,” he says. “The Jade Emperor cares that his wife is healthy and he knows enough to send a bribe along with a command to perform an odious task, but it’s not like he actually cares about my day-to-day feelings. As long as I can play the role of the Phoenix in public and raise his kids in private, I’m sure he has far more important matters to occupy his mind.”

Gookjoo raises a brow at this but says nothing, merely laying the book aside and swapping a full baby for a hungry one.

Jongdae cuddles Sohee to his shoulder, holding her little face in front of a large, extra-absorbent burp cloth. He’d learned that infants can “burp” up a whole stomach’s worth of milk with little warning, and he doesn’t want to ruin all his nice new clothes.

There’s a knock at the nursery door just as Sohee manages a tiny little ladylike burp. Jongdae frowns at the infant.

“We’re going to have to work on that,” he says as he goes to answer the door. “You’re the only girl in a family of boys, and you may be the future Dragon but your brother at least isn’t going to go easy on you in burping contests—oh, hi, Baekhyun.”

“Stars, so adorable,” Baekhyun breathes. “Babies need valets, right?”

Jongdae laughs. “Just let me set her down.”

He closes the door softly, then lays the tiny princess in her crib, spinning the mobile of paper animals Junhee had folded when on bedrest. His sister had loved her children even before their birth, and Jongdae will make sure the babies know that.

Baekhyun is waiting in the parlor, and his face twists into a wry smile when he realizes he has Jongdae’s full attention.

“Your valet is to dress the Phoenix for court,” he announces.

Jongdae sighs, eyes closed and shoulders slumping. “I must have done something to offend the Dragon,” he concludes. 

“On the contrary. Your valet believes the Jade Emperor is exceedingly impressed with the Phoenix, hence the increase in imperial duties.”

“He can’t be that impressed if he’s forcing me to take embroidery lessons from the Dowager Empress—in my own parlor, no less.”

Baekhyun scoffs. “A magpie is unconcerned about a spider,” he dismisses. “Even in its own nest.”

“Have you met her?” Jongdae asks as he follows his valet into the dressing room. “She’s scary, and she’s made it very clear she does  _ not _ like me or want me around her grandchildren.”

“That’s unfortunate for the Dowager Empress,” Baekhyun says as Jongdae takes a seat at the vanity. “There are exactly two esteemed personages in the world who outrank the Grand Prince Consort, and one of them appeared to be no bigger than your valet’s mother’s favorite lap spaniel.”

Jongdae laughs. “Give them a break. Gookjoo says we should be evaluating them as if they were a month younger than they are. They’re eating well and growing fast—she’s sure they’ll catch up after a year or so.”

Baekhyun smiles. “Your valet meant no disrespect to our Jade Princess,” he says as he starts to twist Jongdae’s hair into the stiff little rows into which his crown will be pinned. “It is only that it does not matter how little esteem is held by the Dowager Empress for the Grand Prince Consort. All must cede to those who outrank them.”

Jongdae offers a wan smile. “If her attempts to railroad her son are any indication about how pulling rank is going to go, I’m not excited to give it a try.”

“Perhaps just knowing the possibility exists might be bolstering,” Baekhyun suggests. What Jongdae thinks of as the “business” crown is pinned in place and his jacket is exchanged for a scarlet one embroidered with gold Phoenixes.

“It may be bolstering in court, at least,” Jongdae decides. “They may think I’m improper, but they get no say in the matter. The Jade Emperor may not want me, but he’s made it very clear that he’s keeping me and everyone better get well used to the idea.”

“Doesn’t want…?” Baekhyun’s face is a mask of surprise quickly stifled. “‘Thrilled to have’ seems a more apt description from a servant’s perspective. And probably most everyone else.”

“Well, I’m glad the illusion is convincing. How long do we expect court to last today?”

#  ♔♡♕

Court today is determined to be interminable. Xiumin has to fight to resist cradling his chin in his hand, electing to entwine his fingers with his wife’s instead. 

At the midsummer revelry, Xiumin had held Jongdae’s hand to comfort him but found himself drawing strength from the sturdy fingers between his own. And he’d slept so well with his wife in his arms. There’s just something about touching Jongdae that soothes him, and he’s shamefully determined to get as much contact as he can.

Well, he won’t go so far as to force the unwilling man into his bed again. But he’ll enjoy holding his hand under the guise of showing his people he’s happy with the match, and he’s looking forward to Coronation Day when he’ll be able to dance with his Phoenix again.

Maybe by then his people will have gotten their fill of his unconventional wife. Surely his people are lining up to see him, inventing disputes as cause to stand before the Jade Emperor and his Phoenix.

After passing judgement on yet another imaginary quarrel between two merchants who had both brought their entire families to bear witness on their behalf—all of whom stared at the Grand Prince Consort the entire time—another pair of families is brought before the court.

In this case, the dispute is serious enough that the cause has been relinquished to the court, meaning if an agreement can’t be reached, the property is forfeit to the Jade Emperor. It must therefore be a serious concern, if the complainants are so willing to deprive each other that they’re willing to risk depriving themselves.

Archchancellor Do steps forward to receive the contested object from the clerk. He examines it closely before approaching the throne, dropping to one knee, and formally offering it to Xiumin. 

He must release Jongdae’s hand to accept it, lifting his brows at the weight. It’s a bronze box about as long as Xiumin’s arm from wrist to elbow and half as wide, of the type often used to hold a woman’s trinkets. The family name Song is carved prominently on the long sides and lid, surrounded with depictions of rabbits and quail. When he lifts the lid, he indeed discovers it full of a lady’s adornments: hairpins, earrings, pendants and bangles carved of ivory and turquoise or enameled over bronze, copper, or tin.

He notices Jongdae’s attention, so he holds a few pieces up for him to see before closing the box and handing it back to Kyungsoo. The Archchancellor sets the box on a table in the middle of the court, then turns to the complainants. The two families are waiting with eyes downcast, another sign that they’re truly here for judgement and not for spectacle.

“Who is eldest among you?”

The patriarch of one family hesitantly lifts a hand. Those who seem to be his wife and children—a grown daughter and a teenage son—wait behind him.

“Tell the court why this box belongs to you.”

“If it please the court, I am a humble farmer. I purchased a tract of land from Mrs. Song, and while plowing I unearthed this treasure. Since it was found on my land, it belongs to me.”

“And what does Mrs. Song have to say about this?”

The head of the second family steps forward. This middle-aged woman is accompanied by a young man and two half-grown girls.

“If it please the court, I am but a widow. I take in washing and mending to make ends meet, yet I needed to sell off some family land to pay my son’s apprenticeship fee. My husband’s father used to tell us stories about how his brother as a small child once stole their mother’s trinket box and hid it, never to be found again. My husband’s family crest is on the box and it was found on old family land. The land now belongs to Mr. Gao, but the box is obviously the lost heirloom and therefore belongs to our family.”

Xiumin frowns. It is a shame to lose a piece of one’s family history, but a sale of land transfers all rights to anything later found upon it. If the man had discovered an ore deposit, it would be his—why should these trinkets be different?

“The box bears the Song family crest—give the heirloom to them.” When the Gao family starts to protest, Xiumin cuts through the hubbub. “But the contents are spoils of the land Mr. Gao fairly bought, so the trinkets should go to him.”

Kyungsoo steps forward to pour the box’s trinkets into Mr. Gao’s outstretched hands, then hands the heirloom to Mrs. Song. The widow looks stricken as she accepts the box, and Xiumin feels pity that the widow will never have the funds to fill the heirloom she reclaimed for her family.

“There is an alternative,” a deep voice says from beside him, and Xiumin looks to Jongdae with surprise.

So does everyone else in the room, and Xiumin can see his wife’s cheeks color though his spine remains straight.

“Yes, my Phoenix?” Xiumin prompts.

“Mrs. Song, why do you seem disappointed with this verdict when the lost heirloom has been returned to you?”

The woman jumps when her name is called, then bows low to Jongdae. “If it please the Phoenix, this woman hoped to sell a few trinkets to fund her children’s education.”

Jongdae nods, then turns to the other family, evidently thrilled to have received the lion’s share of the prize.

“Mr. Gao, why does a man accumulate wealth?”

Mr. Gao bows as well, though not as deeply. “If it please the Phoenix, a man only strives to provide for his family.”

“You both wish your children to benefit. So let’s ask them. Miss Gao, are you pleased to have been granted such a windfall?”

The girl bows deeply, then casts a glance at her father. “I-if it please the Phoenix, this family is already comfortable. The Songs work hard to keep food on the table.”

“So you would cede the prize to them?”

The girl nods, then flinches from her father’s scowl.

“And young Mr. Song. Would you accept this prize to keep your family fed?”

The lad bows. “If it please the Phoenix, this family’s road has been difficult for years but this mother has always managed to provide. This youth is determined to learn his trade well and with haste in order to assist in financing the education of these sisters. This family is no worse off if the trinkets remain with the Gaos, and all the better for the recovery of an heirloom to pass down.”

Jongdae nods again. “What is your apprenticed trade?”

“If it please the Phoenix, this youth strives to become the best tinsmith in Lohoryeo.”

Jongdae smiles. “Tin is known for being incorruptible, is it not?” He spares a little glance for Xiumin.

Xiumin smiles in return. The syllables of his given name mean ‘jade’ and ‘tin,’ in the hopes that he would become an incorruptible emperor.

The youth nods.

“And what do you think of Mr. Gao’s daughter?”

The boy blushes, and Xiumin catches on to his wife’s little plan.

“I-if it please the Phoenix, the daughter is most kind. Often these sisters are supervised so this mother can work.”

Jongdae looks at the parents, one humble, one humiliated. “Since both parents have declared their wish to ensure their children’s future, it should please both families if young Mr. Song uses his family’s returned heirloom for an engagement gift to a kind and generous young woman, and that young woman fills the box with the trinkets that are surely meant as her dowry.”

Young Mr. Song proves himself quick on the uptake. He touches his mother’s forearm, and the woman hands him the heirloom with tears in her eyes. The lad kisses his mother’s forehead, then goes to kneel before Miss Gao.

“Generous Qian, will you accept my courtship?”

“Steadfast Wei, it would be my privilege, but of course I seek my parents’ blessing.”

Mr. Gao’s face is red and his jaw is set, but with all the eyes of the court upon him he has little choice but to pour the trinkets in his hands into his daughter’s engagement gift.

“A man could do worse for a son-in-law than a tinsmith,” he admits. “May you have a harmonious union lasting a hundred years.”

Miss Song thanks her father and the new couple bows to both families to the cheers of the onlooking court. Xiumin is about to dismiss them with good wishes for their marriage, but Miss Gao plucks something from the box and steps forward to kneel. Head bowed, she holds a trinket out in cupped hands toward Jongdae.

“What is this?” Jongdae asks.

“If it please the Phoenix, this daughter would express gratitude for such imperial wisdom. The gift itself is meagre compared to the adornments of the Phoenix, but a plum blossom signifies being unbowed by difficulties, and thus is this daughter’s fervent wish for this newly-joined family and for the imperial family as well.”

Jongdae nods at Kyungsoo, who accepts what turns out to be a bronze hairpin adorned with a five-petaled flower enameled in white with the center blushing fuchsia. Smiling, Jongdae reaches to pluck a golden pin from his hair and replace it with the gift.

He hands the golden hairpin to Kyungsoo. “The Phoenix is touched by your continuing demonstration of generosity and compassion. Therefore it pleases the Phoenix to bestow another engagement gift. Let the phoenix on this hairpin be a badge of your virtue.”

Kyungsoo places the pin in the stunned girl’s still outstretched hands as the onlooking court once again cheers. The girl’s newly-betrothed eventually helps her to her feet and leads her away as she cradles the hairpin reverently to her chest.

The Jade Emperor couldn’t be more proud of his wife, cleverly bestowing prosperity and happiness like the magpie that is his people’s emblem. With this little display, he’s demonstrated wisdom and kindness wrapped in a romantic framework that will certainly make it into the repertoire of bards and players. Jongdae couldn’t have chosen a better way to endear himself to the people and prove his place at Xiumin’s side, and he’s quite sure his wife hadn’t even meant to do so. 

Xiumin grins at his wife as he reaches over to reclaim his hand, an action that makes Jongdae’s face flush once again. But when Xiumin squeezes his fingers, Jongdae squeezes back, and a smile creeps onto those kittenish lips.

Unbowed by difficulties, indeed.

#  ♕♡♔

Despite his husband’s obvious pleasure in his wife’s moment of matchmaking, Jongdae doesn’t fully relax until he’s in his chambers, out of his regalia, and cuddling sweet Sehunnie to his chest while his sister is fed.

“What have I done?” he asks Gookjoo. “Now they’re going to expect that sort of thing from me all the time, and I’m not going to be able to measure up.”

Gookjoo smiles. “I’m sure you’ll be fine. What made you decide to speak up?”

“Lunacy,” Jongdae huffs. “I just saw the looks the son and daughter kept shooting each other, and thought that the families should just share it. It must be an enormous hardship to be a widow.”

“I’m sure it is hard to lose a partner,” Gookjoo responds.

A fresh wave of sorrow washes over Jongdae. He cuddles Sehunnie close and kisses his little nose, an action that causes the infant to scrunch his face adorably in protest.

“Well. Now that I’m the Plum Blossom Phoenix, unbowed by difficulty, I guess I have to graciously allow the Dowager Empress to instruct me in the ways of imperial management and see her grandchildren.”

Gookjoo presses amused lips together. “It does seem that your fate is sealed, Augustum.”

Jongdae sighs. “Well, at least I finally feel like I’m being a useful wife to the Jade Emperor.”

Gookjoo tilts her head. “You work hard every day for His Imperial Highness.”

Jongdae shakes his head. “You don’t really need my help. You and the Jade Emperor have been indulging my grief. But it has been months, and I’m glad to be given the opportunity to finally take up my proper duty. I’d hate for him to decide I’m not worth upholding the treaty. Jakhan is quite vulnerable at the moment without Lohoryeo’s strength.”

An odd look passes over Gookjoo’s face. For a moment, she says nothing. Then, “I will of course care for the imperial twins as well as I always do, but you are missed when you’re not here.”

Jongdae smiles at her. “Really, you’re too kind.”

However, the Dowager Empress is not kind when she arrives the next morning accompanied by Sir Zitao the guard. He’s carrying his usual staff and a pair of embroidery frames which he sets side by side in front of the loveseat. With a bow and a smile, he retreats to the door, where he stands at attention just inside the room.

“Now then,” the Dowager Empress says. “I greatly disapprove of this farce of a marriage. But my son has made it very clear that he will not set you aside in favor of one more suitable.” She sighs. “Therefore, it is my task to make you as suitable as possible, given the raw materials with which I must work.”

Jongdae manages to smile and bow respectfully. “Many thanks for such grace,” he says. He does not say that if she’s going to insult him she can leave, though he thinks it very, very loudly.

“Let us start by better schooling your fingers. A lady should never find herself idle.”

Jongdae bites back retorts that he is neither a lady nor idle. He sits where instructed, threads the provided needle with the floss he’s given, sticks it in the tiny cushion attached to the embroidery frame for the purpose, and accepts the soft charcoal pencil he’s handed.

“If you are working on a dark fabric, you would instead use chalk,” she says, as if Jongdae hadn’t painstakingly traced a piece of parchment cut in the shape of a tiger’s head in the back of a carriage at least three dozen times.

Jongdae nods, keeping his face blank and polite.

“Beginners are generally advised to start with plants as subjects.”

Jongdae nods again.

She elegantly applies charcoal to the creamy linen in front of her with delicate strokes. A conical evergreen is suggested by the sweeping lines. She looks at Jongdae, raising a brow.

Biting his lip, Jongdae applies the charcoal to his own linen. His pine tree is not nearly so elegant.

“Are you pleased with your sketch?” the Dowager Empress asks.

Jongdae curls a lip at his work.

“This is why plants are ideal. It is well known what a pine tree is supposed to look like. But how many examples in nature actually match such an image? Nature is generally consistent, but rarely is she perfect.”

Jongdae nods. Maybe his little tree grew on a windy slope, or in the shadow of a rock. It’s doing the best it can to survive, even if it’s a bit uneven and sort of bottom-heavy.

“When depicting a generally symmetrical form, a stitcher can work the favored side of a sketch first, note the number of stitches used, and work a matching quantity on the other side to balance an imperfect sketch, if desired.”

Jongdae nods. He’d definitely learned to do that with his tiger faces.

“Then let our needles move as freely as our tongues,” the Dowager Empress invites, setting aside the charcoal.

Jongdae follows suit, knotting the end of the thread before poking his needle up at the bottom of the trunk. He’d tried to start stitching the tigers at the top at first, but the lines would be smudged by his hands as he worked. 

The Dowager Empress nods. “A more experienced stitcher would trap the end of the thread beneath the first few stitches to achieve a flatter result more suitable for things like clothing.”

Jongdae feels his face flush. His wedding shirt for his imperial husband had hundreds of knots on the inside. But he only nods and begins to embroider, trying to outline his little tree in neat, even stitches. He can feel the woman watching him for a moment, but thankfully she soon begins on her own work.

“I have heard so many tales of the Phoenix’s silver tongue and golden voice, yet I have scarcely heard two sentences from my son’s new wife.”

“Apologies,” Jongdae murmurs.

She watches him stitch for a moment. “Perhaps you can use that tongue to tell me how exactly a man has managed to lodge himself so firmly in my son’s affections?”

Jongdae purses his lips, unsure as to what answer this woman wants to hear. Ultimately, he decides to go with the truth. If she’s going to disapprove of him, he’d rather it be for faults he actually has.

“The Jade Emperor treats his Phoenix with the utmost respect,” he says, glad to be able to stare at his needlework instead of at the judgmental woman beside him. “He has been exceedingly polite and very kind, but he does not view his wife with affection.”

“Yet he smiles at you constantly and holds your hand frequently.”

“That is to show the public he is committed to the union and contented with the match.”

“He was not like that with your sister.”

Jongdae swallows the sudden lump in his throat. “The Guardian Phoenix would not have liked such a public exhibition of a private relationship.”

“But you like such things?” The arched brow on the powdered face is dark and angled much like her son’s.

Jongdae blinks at the line of dark brown stitches in front of him, confused as to why she’d ask for such an obvious answer. Yet her brow remains raised, so he gives the woman what she wants.

“It does not matter what this Phoenix likes,” he states dispassionately, face carefully neutral. “This prince is here to fill a role. To do as bidden. To secure the alliance.”

He can feel the woman staring at him for three, four, five whole stitches.

“Well,” she says finally. “At least you know your place.”

#  ♔♡♕

As Xiumin stares down at the leather-bound journal on his desk, he can come to only one conclusion.

He is a complete failure as a husband for the second time.

It’s incredibly painful to read his wife’s daily thoughts, written in a tidy hand. Jongdae had started out cautiously optimistic, grateful for Xiumin’s respect though puzzled by his distance. He’d been grateful to be given time to settle in, to get to know the twins, but disappointed about his isolation. The number of exclamation points he used on the day they’d first taken the heirs out to the garden is extremely disheartening. His wife must have felt like a prisoner in his own chambers for a trip outside to be deemed so exciting.

It’s also rather sad how Jongdae had started off writing things like, “The clothes the tailor brought are wonderful. I’ll wear the blue set tomorrow so the Jade Emperor can see his investment was fruitful,” or “Perhaps the Jade Emperor will be able to join us for supper tomorrow,” and, heartbreakingly “I worry that the Jade Emperor is working too hard. Perhaps he’d enjoy a shoulder rub when next he manages a visit.”

All mentions of Xiumin cease after the entry “I am glad the Jade Emperor makes time for his children. It is important for them to know that their father values them highly.”

Kyungsoo was right. He  _ always _ is—that’s why he’s the Archchancellor, after all. Xiumin had spent two months informing Jongdae by his absence that his wife was not important to him.

Had Junhee thought the same? Had she died believing her only worth to him was as the vessel his children grew within?

Now her brother believes himself valuable only as a dutiful chronicler of his children’s lives. The first few weeks are split about equally between Jongdae’s own thoughts and reports about the twins. But after the comment about the Jade Emperor making time for his children, the remaining entries are dominated by anecdotes, observations, and even poetry about the imperial heirs.

The only exception is the day they first went to the garden, evidently a bright spot in Jongdae’s otherwise dull existence.

At least Junhee had had hobbies. The Phoenix’s chambers were always strewn with books and projects and games. And she’d always had at least one visitor each day, initially because the women of the court were keen to curry favor, but he’d been given to understand that several had become genuine friends.

Jongdae’s only company for months had been two tiny infants and the woman paid to feed them.

“What report are you scowling at so harshly?” Kyungsoo asks. 

Xiumin lifts his eyes to see his Archchancellor striding toward him with an armload of large bound volumes topped by a pyramid of scrolls. He sets them down on the spot Xiumin had just cleared of the last pile of reports.

“The report of my shameful neglect of my wife,” he sighs. “It’s a wonder Jongdae doesn’t hate me.”

“He might, after you inflicted your mother on him,” Kyungsoo laughs. “Though Zitao says they’re behaving entirely civilly, although your mother is using semi-formal language while your wife refuses to drop any formalities at all.”

“He’s only once dropped formalities entirely with me,” Xiumin admits. “And the morning after our wedding he dropped them slightly when I did the same.”

“And barring the day you met, how often have you spoken with your wife in private outside of those two occasions?”

Xiumin frowns. “Never,” he admits.

“There, see? Your wife uses informal language with you one hundred percent of the time when you’re alone.” Kyungsoo smiles innocently.

Xiumin points his scowl at his milk-brother. “Perhaps if every court session weren’t years long so the entire population of Lohoryeo can stare at him and try to glean a hairpin, I could get a minute to have a private conversation with my wife.”

“Perhaps if you deigned to eat regular meals, you could share one with your wife.”

“Again, it’s not like I have time. I only just got a chance to look at my wife’s journal, and he sent it to me three weeks ago.”

Kyungsoo’s brows go up. “So he wrote down all his grievances in there or something?”

Xiumin shakes his head. “Quite the opposite. He rarely complains at all, and if he does, it’s about the weather.”

“So why do you think he should hate you?”

“Well, I did kill his sister, for one thing. Then I stole his future and left him in his chambers to rot without ensuring that he was aware he could do things like ask for amusements, go on outings, hell, just leave the damn room and walk around the palace. None of the courtiers have attempted to visit him, and if he’s written home to his family I haven’t been informed. Sehun and Sohee have a more active social life than my poor isolated wife.”

“But he attends court now,” Kyungsoo points out. “And your mother visits. Surely it’s only a matter of time before the courtiers come to call.”

Xiumin’s scowl softens. “I suppose having the attention of the Dowager Empress certainly improves his social standing.”

“And it’s obvious that you favor him highly. I’m surprised that those who want your ear haven’t yet tried to go through your wife.”

“Well,  _ he _ evidently has no idea I favor him highly. I have to fix this. I won’t lose another wife.”

So that night he doesn’t lurk at the door listening to his wife sing. He knocks and enters after the first song, wearing a gentle smile.

“Good evening, my singing Phoenix.” 

Jongdae is frozen with his mouth open and Sohee in his arms, but he manages to fold into a bow in response to the greeting.

“It is good to see you as well, trusted Gookjoo.”

The wet nurse bows as well as one is able with an infant attached to one’s breast.

Xiumin steps over to Jongdae, feeling oddly like he should engage in some sort of physical affection. But Jongdae’s hands are full, so he can’t hold them, and he’s not sure that an arm around the shoulders would be welcome. He settles for stroking his daughter’s thickening hair.

“Apologies,” Jongdae says, offering the infant to him.

“No apology necessary,” Xiumin states, but he does gather up his little girl.

Jongdae bows and sidles toward the door.

Xiumin frowns. “I did not mean to displace my Phoenix from his own nest,” he says. “Please, stay a while. Are you well? Is there anything you would have?”

Jongdae bows again. “Your Phoenix is healthy and well provided for,” he says. “And many hours are spent in this nest. There is no need to interfere with the imperial family’s bonding time.” 

And then he’s gone.

Xiumin turns to Gookjoo with a sigh. “How badly have I failed if my Phoenix does not consider himself part of the imperial family? My heirs are his kin by blood, yet he excludes himself.”

Gookjoo shrugs. “A wise servant would not point out that the Jade Emperor sees more of the wet nurse than the Grand Prince Consort. Is your Phoenix expected to feel like family when a humble servant gets more of the Jade Emperor’s attention?”

Xiumin scowls. “A wise emperor would not ask questions he doesn’t want the answer to, I suppose.”

#  ♕♡♔

Jongdae sighs in exhaustion as he lowers himself into the rocking chair and slouches in what’s probably a very un-Phoenix-like posture, Sehun draped over his chest. “I’ll only stay a short time,” he says. “That way the Jade Emperor can spend more time with his babies.”

“The Jade Emperor seemed disappointed not to get to spend any time with his Phoenix,” Gookjoo replies.

“The Jade Emperor spent all day with his Phoenix,” Jongdae counters. “He only gets scant hours with his children. I won’t steal that time from them.”

“Were you able to share a meal?”

“I didn’t even  _ eat _ a meal,” Jongdae almost whines. “The Jade Emperor had a servant peel sweet oranges and distribute the sections between appeals, but if I know the Jade Emperor at all he’ll have something brought to me shortly.”

“Perhaps you can sup together.”

Jongdae shakes his head. “The Jade Emperor has more meetings,” he reports. “Though he did say he hoped they’d be brief.”

“You should stay,” Gookjoo says. “I think the Jade Emperor misses his wife.”

Jongdae snorts. “I’m sure he does miss Junhee,” he says. “She’d at least have been able to relieve him of some tension instead of constantly adding to it.”

Gookjoo cocks her head at him. “The Jade Emperor clearly delights in you. He may still feel the loss of the Guardian Phoenix, but I am sure he does not compare you disfavorably.”

Jongdae shrugs. “The fact is, I’m supposed to be helping him. Or at least not hampering him. But court lasts forever because the people all want to see me, so it’s my fault he has to sit on that throne all day long. Which means he’s constantly at attention, and then he has to do the rest of his imperial management in the wee hours.”

He sighs, closing both eyes again. “His valet is good, but I can tell he’s sleep-deprived. And while he makes sure I eat, I’m sure he isn’t doing the same for himself. If I were a good wife, I’d stuff him full of food and  _ rub  _ all the tension out of him, in every sense of the word.”

Gookjoo laughs. “What husband wouldn’t enjoy that?”

_ Mine, evidently. _ But Jongdae can’t admit that particular failure, so he changes the subject. “At least I know he’ll eat well and be somewhat forced to relax on Coronation Day, if he doesn’t snap before then.”

Gookjoo smiles. “Has anyone informed the Phoenix that it’s traditional for the Jade Emperor’s favorite consorts to play music or sing at the Coronation Day celebration?”

Jongdae opens both eyes at this news. “Of course not,” he says. “But I’m far from his favorite.”

“Oh. I didn’t realize he’d taken another consort.”

“He hasn’t, to my knowledge,” Jongdae admits.

“Then you must be his favorite, if only by default.”

Jongdae closes his eyes again on a sigh. “I hope he likes lullabies or sacred chants, then. That’s all this consort knows.”

“The palace employs a minstrel,” Gookjoo says. “He was a favorite of the Guardian Phoenix during her confinement.”

“Great. I’ll just wake up at dawn for singing lessons before the Dowager Empress gets to needle me, I guess.” 

But the Dowager Empress is doing less needling and more coaching these days since Jongdae figured out what the woman really wants. He’d realized she kept looking at the nursery door that first day so he’d invited her in to see the babies while he ate a quick lunch and changed for court. The woman had actually  _ smiled _ at him when she’d left. The next morning, he’d had Gookjoo bring Sohee out to the sitting room, fed and clean and wrapped in verdigris silk. The Jade Princess is freer with her coos than her more reserved brother, so she’d been the designated Granny Melter. 

It had worked. The Dowager Empress still insults Jongdae fairly regularly, but now it’s for being unskilled or uneducated or provincial rather than just for the offense of being a male wife. Jongdae finds it much easier to tolerate, because theoretically he’ll become more skilled and educated and sophisticated under her tutelage, and in theory, the insults will then die down.

Or so he tells himself, anyway, as he picks out his imperfect embroidery over and over each morning at her direction. And Baekhyun is right—it is comforting to remind himself he outranks her. He’s suffering by choice rather than by force, under the onus of his own sense of duty rather than her need for tyranny. And when Xiumin had personally brought lunch one afternoon to share with his wife and mother before court, he’d smiled so wide at finding Jongdae diligently stitching while the Dowager Empress cuddled Sehun. 

After that, Jongdae’s polite cooperation had been prompted much less by duty than by the hope of earning another one of those glorious grins. So even as Jongdae complains to Gookjoo about his upcoming loss of sleep, he can’t help but smile down at the baby drooling on his chest. Singing for his husband is sure to bring that grin to his face, and that thought alone is enough to make him willing to learn any song at any hour of the day.

#  ♔♡♕

Xiumin doesn’t think he’s ever seen a more precious sight. 

When he’d opened the door to the nursery, Gookjoo had held a finger to her lips, then pointed at the rocker across the room.

And even if he doesn’t get to talk to his wife, it was still worth rushing through his meetings to get back to his family as soon as possible. Because his infant son is currently cradled against Jongdae’s chest, and they’re both fast asleep.

He wishes he had a way to perfectly preserve this moment.

He does his best by staring and staring, stupid grin plastered on his face. The gentle lantern light is casting Jongdae’s exceptional cheekbones into shadowy relief, only kissing the sharpest edge. 

Is it weird that Xiumin wants to kiss that edge, too?

He also wants to kiss his adorable son even though his tiny mouth is open and he’s drooled a substantial damp spot onto Jongdae’s robe.

“They’re beautiful,” he whispers, and Gookjoo nods with a smile. She’s holding Sohee but not to feed, so she offers the Jade Princess to her father. 

Xiumin collects his baby daughter and gives her the kisses and cuddles he’d grant his wife and son if not for fear of waking them up. He can’t resist crossing the room to crouch at Jongdae’s side, grinning at the man whose lips try to smile even in sleep. 

Disloyally, he wishes Junhee had shared that feature with her brother so she could have passed the trait to their children. Instead, both look to have inherited their father’s full lower lip, though Sehun’s lips are set more neutrally like Junhee’s while Sohee has Xiumin’s pout. With Junhee’s double eyelids, their little prince looks perpetually unimpressed while their little princess, with her father’s wide mono-lidded eyes, resembles a beseeching kitten.

He hopes Jongdae is made of sterner stuff than he is. He already knows he’s going to let them sucker him every time for the chance to make his babies smile.

“Your Phoenix will be stiff and sore if the night is spent in that chair,” Gookjoo’s whisper penetrates his thoughts. “If this servant extricates the Jade Prince, perhaps the Jade Emperor might take the Phoenix to bed.”

Xiumin nods, setting Sohee down in her crib more than a little reluctantly. Gookjoo proves her skill by gathering up the prince without waking either sleeper, and once Sehun is laid in his crib she holds the nursery door for Xiumin.

He gently slides an arm under Jongdae’s knees and shoulders before hefting him bridal-style. He hadn’t carried his bride on their wedding day, and he takes no small satisfaction at being able to do so easily despite his lapse in fitness habits. 

Gookjoo precedes him through the parlor to open the Phoenix’s bedchamber door, then bows a goodnight before returning to his children.

Xiumin has to steel himself to enter the room. He’s never been in here, not when it was his mother’s chamber nor when it belonged to either of his wives. The bed is smaller than his own but still wide and well-furnished, and he lays Jongdae on top of the puffy comforter.

He intends to extinguish the lantern and return to his children, but it’s again casting those sharp shadows over Jongdae’s intriguing face. How can it be so angular and fierce, almost hard, but then have ridiculously long lashes and the softest curled-up lips?

He remembers how soft they were, how his own lips eagerly moved against them. He can admit he’d enjoyed that kiss. He can admit that, when he’d been drunk and Jongdae had been in his arms, he’d imagined how they might feel if he kissed them again. He’s glad he didn’t, though, because then Jongdae would have offered himself again and Minseok, hard and intoxicated, may well have accepted.

After everything Jongdae’s already done for him, Xiumin won’t degrade him like that.

But that doesn’t mean he can’t gaze at his wife with fondness for a moment or two. He has to figure out a way to convince Jongdae he’s an integral part of the imperial family, and that Xiumin would be floundering without him.

#  ♕♡♔

Jongdae wakes up shivering, quickly burrowing beneath the blankets as soon as he realizes he’s on top of them instead of tucked in. But the blankets are stuck on one side, because the Jade Emperor is asleep on top of them.

Well. That explains how Jongdae got from the nursery to bed. He must have fallen asleep in the rocking chair.

The Jade Emperor looks softer in sleep, the concerns of the empire erased from his face, leaving him boyish and almost vulnerable. It makes Jongdae’s chest squeeze with the most ridiculous urge to protect the most powerful man in the known world, as if the addition of one slim man of modest height into the ranks of the imperial guard would make any sort of difference. As if Jongdae could ever even protect him from his own tendencies toward overwork and self-neglect.

Jongdae would just let his exhausted husband sleep, except that Xiumin’s weighing down a wide-enough section of blanket that Jongdae can’t properly cover himself. The Jade Emperor must be cold, too, because he’s curled into a ball and had been tucked against Jongdae’s side. His bedrobe is cool beneath Jongdae’s hand when he shakes the imperial shoulder.

Xiumin’s eyes pop open, staring at Jongdae with bleary confusion before blinking into focus.

“Either go to your own bed or get under the covers,” Jongdae says. “It’s going to look weird to the servants if you stay like that.”

Xiumin blinks again. “You’d really let me stay?” A smile toys with the corners of his lips.

Jongdae shrugs. “It’s your right,” he says.

The smile disappears, replaced by a wistful sort of look.

“Good night, my Phoenix. May your dreams be pleasant and your sleep be restful.” Xiumin slides off the bed and bows, then extinguishes the lantern before exiting the bedchamber.

Huh. Jongdae would have thought the cuddly sleeper would have jumped at the opportunity to pin his wife to the bed. Evidently, outside of obligatory post-marriage performances and inebriated senselessness, the Jade Emperor really doesn’t want anything physical to do with his wife.

Unsure why he’s so disappointed about that, Jongdae snuggles deeper into his bedding. It must be because as long as Xiumin isn’t relieving his needs one way or another, Jongdae can’t either. 

Stupid, stubbornly-honorable Dragon.

The rest of Jongdae’s sleep is undisturbed, but the next night’s rest is truncated well before Jongdae would have preferred. He’s still petulantly holding one eye closed even after Baekhyun has dressed him (while moaning about Jongdae’s dark circles) and the servants have fed him (also half-asleep, given the incredibly basic nature of his rice and fruit).

But the dimpled minstrel only smiles at the one-eyed Phoenix. “One does not need to see to sing,” he says. “But it does help with reading a score. Perhaps after the Phoenix’s voice has warmed up, vision will follow.”

It does, and Jongdae is bashfully bowing his apologies a half-hour later.

The minstrel, called Yixing, deploys another smile in response. “The early hour indicates these lessons are important enough to extend the Phoenix’s day,” he says. “The Phoenix follows this humble minstrel well even with resting eyes. It matters not to this servant if the warmup is used to wake up.”

So that’s how Jongdae’s days go. Learning a song he’s never heard of because Gookjoo says it’s sure to please the Jade Emperor, then practicing his embroidery with the increasingly-tolerable Dowager Empress while the woman lectures and quizzes him about social interactions, Lohoryeo’s nobility, petty politics, and palace oversight. 

After that he steals a few moments with the babies while he shoves rice and dumplings and fruit into his face, then it’s off to court to be openly inspected by another percentage of Lohoryeo’s population while Xiumin holds his hand. Supper is sent to his room well after dark, and he’s started singing to Xiumin’s heirs early before taking his meal into his bedchamber so the imperial family can bond in private.

Jongdae has only spoken up in court twice more since the Plum Blossom Incident, both times when it was obvious that one party was cheating another and the law was worded so as to allow it. It’s one thing to uphold the law and yet another to deliver justice, and Jongdae has a hard time ignoring injustice when the solutions are so simple.

In the first case, a family built a home near the edge of their property only for the neighbor to have his property re-measured, proving the new structure was actually within said neighbor’s boundary. Jongdae shamed him into trading the plot the house was occupying for an equal plot of similar-quality land farther down the boundary by asking the duplicitous neighbor if it were his parents that had spent their life savings to build themselves a home in which to raise his family, would he want the verdict in the case to be the same?

In the second case, an enterprising woman had made a deal with a neighbor to graze their flocks together, noting that since her goats were black and his were white, they’d be able to easily separate them after the agreed-upon term. But while the white billy goat and the black one had each been noted to cover both white and black nannies, all the kids born had been black. Of course, the shrewd woman had claimed them under the original agreement to sort by color.

“Had you bred your billy to white nannies before?” Jongdae had asked her. 

She had admitted letting another herder use him at stud for a fee—probably because said herder was standing within the group (herd?) of herders that had all come to ogle Jongdae and witness the imperial verdict. She’d then admitted that all kids born to said herder’s white nannies were black.

That same herder had leant her a white stud several years later, and again the kids were black.

“There is, of course, no way to prove that the grazing agreement was entered in bad faith by either party, but now that so many other herders know of this possible deception, a dishonest herder may find it difficult to obtain future stud service or land-sharing partners,” Jongdae had stated casually after the agricultural chancellor had admitted that the woman had legal right to the black kids under the signed agreement she produced.

Suddenly, the woman wanted to divide the kids fairly with her neighbor, and the Jade Emperor gave Jongdae one of his sweetly-boyish gummy smiles.

So at least publicly Jongdae’s husband is pleased with him. Enough to personally bring a hamper of food out to the garden on a rare day when court is not in session. Jongdae had taken the opportunity to go out with the babies, of course, and he’s especially pleased that the Jade Emperor is finally able to visit his children when they’re awake.

They’re starting to be more than just immobile cuddlers now that they’ve surpassed their twelfth week out of their departed mother’s womb. So after Gookjoo has given the twins their lunch and Xiumin has insisted that Jongdae eat enough roast chicken, rice and vegetables to satisfy the Jade Emperor that his Phoenix is being well kept, Jongdae is finally able to show their father the babies’ newest trick.

He lays them gently on their blanket under the blooming lilies, then makes the colorful flowers bounce overhead. He doesn’t look at their faces, though—Jongdae keeps a close eye on the ever-proud father.

It’s totally worth missing the twins’ smiles to see the one blossom across the Jade Emperor’s perfect face in response.

#  ♔♡♕

His children are so beautiful. Xiumin’s sure he’s making an entirely dopey face as he marvels at his darlings, but he doesn’t care. He’s enchanted by the way their eyes and mouths curve in delight as they watch brightly-colored lilies bob and sway overhead.

And when he sneaks a glance at his wife, Jongdae is beaming as well, looking as proud as Xiumin feels. If Xiumin were standing or Jongdae were kneeling, he’d have thrown at least one arm around the man, but since it would be strange for the Jade Emperor to embrace one of his wife’s legs, he wraps his arms around his own torso instead.

“I’m terribly sorry to burden you with this,” he says. “But you’re going to have to be the stern parent.”

Jongdae laughs. “Your Phoenix expected as much. It’s always the step-parent that’s the mean one.”

Xiumin frowns up at his wife. “You could never be mean,” he states. “You adore them just as much as I do.”

“Apologies,” Jongdae says. “Your Phoenix only meant that children tend to view the step-parent as such. Your Phoenix is prepared to be told that he’s not their real parent by angry little faces.”

“They’d better do no such thing,” Xiumin says firmly. “I might be a sucker for their smiles, but I will not allow them to disrespect you.”

Jongdae shrugs. “Children disrespect parents and test boundaries all the time. It’s part of growing up.”

“Well, there will be memorable consequences when they do,” Xiumin asserts, but then he’s fawning over his babies once again as they kick their tiny feet and reach for the swaying flowers.

He’s kicking himself later when he’s sitting through yet another meeting, because he’d gone out to the garden to spend time with his wife, not make goofy faces at his children. He’s supposed to be convincing Jongdae that he’s appreciated and important to him, but he just keeps reinforcing the idea that his children are the very center of his universe.

They absolutely are, of course. But Jongdae’s a very close second, and Xiumin keeps screwing up his few chances to spend meaningful time with his wife. He’s tempted just to send lavish gifts, but he knows that isn’t nearly enough. The Jade Emperor sends such gifts to dignitaries and ambassadors and high-ranking nobles and accomplished military officers. He doesn’t want to thank or appease or impress his wife, he wants to connect with him.

“Maybe I’ll join him for breakfast before my mother arrives,” he tells Gookjoo after yet another failed attempt to catch his wife before he’d entered his bedchamber.

“Your Imperial Highness would rise very early indeed in such a case,” Gookjoo says. “The Phoenix has two hours of rehearsal before the Dowager Empress graces the Phoenix’s parlor with her presence.”

“Rehearsal for what?” Xiumin asks, brow furrowed.

“Coronation Day. It is tradition for the Jade Emperor’s favorites to entertain him.”

Xiumin frowns. He’d married the Guardian Phoenix shortly after last year’s celebration, and he hadn’t had a concubine before marriage. His mother had sung for him at his coronation as is tradition, but the entertainment since had been carefully curated by his chancellor of arts.

“But Jongdae works so hard already. He doesn’t have to do that.”

“Your Phoenix has never yet left a duty unfulfilled,” Gookjoo reminds him.

“Argh, that man and his sense of duty,” Xiumin growls, making the infant in his arms grin and gurgle at his distorted face.

There’s no resisting making more silly faces for his child after that, but internally he vows that after Coronation Day he will somehow ensure his wife gets a well-deserved rest.

#  ♕♡♔

Jongdae didn’t think his days could get any more full, so he ends up blinking stupidly at the Dowager Empress when she announces one morning that their council will be curtailed in favor of another engagement.

“I have coronation day preparations of my own to complete,” she states. “And it’s about time you practiced political graces with other members of the court able to speak instead of merely babble.”

Unsure whether he should bristle at the statement, Jongdae allows himself to be distracted by guards pulling open the doors to his parlor, admitting a small troupe of courtiers, some of which he recognizes from various court sessions at which they’d been present. The tallest man in particular has attracted Jongdae’s notice in the past, for he has a tendency to emphasize his notable height with feathered hats or bold outfits.

There are five women and two men, all of whom bow deeply and formally introduce themselves as the embroidery hoops are cleared away. The women identify themselves as Junhee’s friends, stating they would have offered their condolences sooner but didn’t wish to intrude on the Phoenix’s grief.

“It was truly an honor to be the Guardian Phoenix’s closest associates.” Joohyun, the seeming leader of the women, is a dynamic little thing that Jongdae can easily see Junhee taking a liking to. “Though the Guardian Phoenix is of course irreplaceable and the loss is still keenly felt, these courtiers would extend every welcome to the Plum Blossom Phoenix, as well.”

Jongdae smiles through suddenly-watering eyes, inclining his head as he gestures for them to make themselves comfortable on the setees. “And are you gentlemen also associates of my late sister?”

“Ah, no.” The tallest, called Chanyeol, shakes his head. “These courtiers are trusted associates of Archchancellor Do, who suggested that the Plum Blossom Phoenix may appreciate masculine company as well.”

Blinking away tears in favor of laughter, Jongdae drops into his own seat. “To be perfectly frank, while of course the shadow of grief still looms, even a plum blossom welcomes the sun. Just about any company is appreciated, especially that which is unlikely to project either vomit or vitriol.”

This statement shatters some of the stiffness in the atmosphere, and Jongdae encourages further relaxation by choosing one of the list of safe, polite conversation topics the Dowager Empress had drilled him on. His comments about weather lead naturally into a discussion about clothing styles popular among courtiers at present, and they all agree that the pointed-toed slippers gaining popularity among men are headed towards ridiculousness.

“They’re getting so long, soon they’ll have to tie the tips to their knees to avoid tripping,” Ryeowook says, prompting Chanyeol to laugh.

“Some courtiers have feet that are big enough to trip over as it is,” he says, proffering one of his own as proof. “There’s really no need of fashion’s help.”

“The Plum Blossom Phoenix will save the dandies, though,” Yerim says with confidence. “If trends are ignored by those higher in rank, they tend not to last long enough to cause too much trouble.”

“I feel as if I should apologize to the ladies of the court, then,” Jongdae laughs. “I doubt they’re finding much inspiration in the Phoenix these days.”

“Oh, but they are,” Sooyoung says. “It’s more subtle than direct imitation, but Jakhan colors are everywhere, cuts that emphasize a slender waist rather than a curvy bust are more popular, and there’s been a sudden trend for a single dangling earring rather than a pair.”

Jongdae feels himself blush. “Oh. Well. In such a case, we owe all our gratitude to my excellent valet.” He grins. “Though I have a rogue urge to talk him into something ridiculous, like kohl-rimmed nostrils, just to see if the trend would really catch on.”

“Please, merciful Phoenix,” Seulgi begs, hands clasped and lips clamped around laughter.

“Yes, perhaps tastefully-reddened lips instead?” Seungwan adds, eyes big and pleading.

Jongdae laughs. Having his lips feel sticky isn’t his favorite thing, but if he’s going to amuse himself with fashion, he may as well cater to his charming new acquaintances.

“Why not? Red lips for coronation day—you can all wear them with me, and be ahead of the trend.”

This sparks a bit of squealing and several pairs of rolled eyes. But it also spills laughter into the air, bright as sunshine after a storm. 

#  ♔♡♕

Xiumin gets no further chances to attempt to enjoy a moment or two alone with his wife over the following days, and suddenly, Coronation Day has arrived. He’s oddly disappointed to enter the great hall without his wife at his side since Jongdae will be opening the festivities. His hand wanders of its own accord to rest on the arm of the chair his wife will eventually be occupying, as if it can’t wait to be clasping warm, sturdy fingers.

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t curious about his wife’s performance, but he isn’t worried or anxious on Jongdae’s behalf. He’s sure to be singing, and he’s incredible at it. Whatever it is will surely be amazing.

Jongdae himself is amazing when he strides purposefully toward the stage set up in the center of the room. He’s dressed in shimmering white damask from head to toe, in unadorned slippers and similarly-plain trousers that emphasize how slim his legs are. But the jacket is stunning, set off all the more by the simplicity of the rest of the outfit.

And Xiumin is blinking away excess moisture from his eyes even before Jongdae begins to sing, because the incredible embroidery on the jacket is one of his own mother’s signature techniques. There’s a golden phoenix over Jongdae’s heart, and all around it are tongues of flame, blending in a beautiful gradient from bright yellow at the bottom hem of body and sleeves all the way up to scarlet framing Jongdae’s shoulders.

Xiumin shifts in his seat, reclaiming his left hand from Jongdae’s chair in order to reach his right hand for his mother’s red silk-clad arm. 

“Thank you,” he says, and she flashes him a tiny smile before his fiery wife opens his carmine-painted mouth and sings.

The hall is dead silent, so Xiumin can clearly hear every note that pours forth, unaccompanied at first to showcase the raw power of Jongdae’s voice. Then he’s joined by a flute and a drum, haunting tones punctuated by low rumbles like distant thunder.

It’s a love song, and when the first verse about a chance meeting transitions into the chorus, Xiumin suddenly understands the drummer’s choice of technique.

“And then you struck like lightning in the snow,   
Unexpectedly you set my world aglow.   
Before you lit up my skies,   
My world was gray and cold.   
But then you dazzled my eyes,   
With your spirit bright and bold.   
I never thought to look for love but little did I know,   
It would catch me by surprise like lightning in the snow.”

There are more verses about exploring unanticipated attraction before giving in to desire, but Xiumin couldn’t repeat them if asked. All his attention is on the sweeping chorus that rolls from resounding low notes to ringing high ones. At the end of the song, Jongdae repeats the chorus once again entirely unaccompanied, letting his voice linger on the last note for an impressively long time.

He bows along with his accompanists, and when there’s no reaction of any kind, he strides from the stage to the dais and takes his seat at the Jade Emperor’s side.

The Jade Emperor currently gaping stupidly at his wife.

“My Phoenix is truly glorious,” Xiumin finally manages to say, reaching for his flushed wife’s slightly-shaking hand.

And that’s evidently the signal for the entire hall to explode with applause and cheers and whistles and cries for another song which die a disappointed death when Jongdae smiles and bows but shakes his head.

Xiumin feels bad for all the other performances, but thankfully (and probably deliberately) the next three acts are juggling, acrobatics, and illusions followed by orchestral groups. Everyone should be nice and tipsy by the time the next vocalists appear, and therefore they’ll get a nice round of applause as well.

But not from Xiumin. He’s not letting go of Jongdae’s hand unless the man himself requests it. 

Or until the dancing forces him to. But he still has his hands on his glorious, incredible wife, so he’s still grinning as he guides Jongdae around the dance floor. And Jongdae’s full of surprises there, too, because he’s much more graceful and skilled than he had been the last time they danced together.

“I’ve never heard that song before,” Xiumin says when they’ve circulated far enough from the musicians that he can speak to his wife at a normal volume and be understood.

Jongdae flushes. “Gookjoo suggested the Jade Emperor would enjoy it.”

“I very much did,” Xiumin smiles. “Thank you for sacrificing your sleep for my entertainment. I hope you are able to rest more from now on, though. You work so hard.”

Jongdae flashes a little smile. “It was your Phoenix’s pleasure. It is the imperial wife’s duty to work hard.”

Xiumin smothers a frown, but while his pride in his talented, hardworking wife remains, all the heart-fluttering joy has drained away. Of course Jongdae learned the song suggested to him. It wasn’t personally chosen for Xiumin and learned with meaningful intentions. Entertaining the Jade Emperor on Coronation Day is just another duty for his Phoenix. 

When the dance ends, Xiumin intends to lead his wife back to their seats, but his sunken spirit is lifted by a bubbly voice that makes him smile even as he’s turning to catch his baby sister in his arms.

“Brother dearest!” Minsoo chirps. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too, darling Sister,” Xiumin replies, releasing her as a tall man strides much more sedately up to greet the imperial couple with a bow.

His sister’s husband tugs Minsoo back into a more decorous position at his side, allowing Xiumin to reclaim Jongdae’s hand before his wife can slink away.

“So this is your new Phoenix,” the tall man says, giving Jongdae an openly appraising look. 

“Minsoo, Princess of Jade and Prince Consort Changmin, I am honored to introduce my Grand Prince Consort,” Xiumin replies with a smile, and Jongdae proffers a polite bow.

“Seems more like a nightingale to me,” Minsoo smiles back, offering a cheeky little wink.

Jongdae flushes again. “Such kind words,” he murmurs.

“Deservedly.” Xiumin smiles at him before lifting his chin proudly toward Prince Consort Changmin. “Our heirs receive a nightly serenade.”

Minsoo’s huge eyes curve as she coos. “That’s so precious!”

“You’ll sing well for our children, too,” her Prince Consort assures her.

“Of course I will,” Minsoo says. “But the Jade Crown Princess and the Jade Prince deserve every bit of sunshine to make up for their stormy start.”

The group goes a bit somber at this, but the solemnity is interrupted by a strident female voice.

“Minnie! Our Baozi is so skinny these days. What happened to those plush cheeks?”

Xiumin braces himself to be tackled, but Jongdae lifts their arms and ducks beneath so he’s being held in front of Xiumin, his arm crossing his body diagonally to meet Xiumin’s hand near his hip. Xiumin has to work very hard not to laugh or even crack a smile as LuLu backpedals ungracefully to a stop. She makes a baffled little face down at them, but Xiumin just smugly hooks his chin over his wife’s shoulder and rests his free hand on Jongdae’s other hip.

“Always a pleasure to see a childhood friend,” Xiumin lies prettily. 

LuLu continues to blink doe eyes at them blankly until her brother saunters up to the group.

“I see the rumors are true,” the Crown Prince of Baekju says, eyeing Jongdae with poorly concealed distaste.

“There are always rumors,” Xiumin dismisses with a smile. “The truth is that I’m thrilled to show off my Grand Prince Consort.”

“Show off is right,” LuLu finally says, shooting daggers at Jongdae. “Minnie, surely we can take a stroll in the garden together, for old time’s sake.”

“If my wife would enjoy some air, we’d be happy to indulge you,” Minseok says, entirely sure based on the tension in Jongdae’s spine that he would enjoy no such thing if it meant keeping company with LuLu.

LuLu looks like she bit into a persimmon and found half a worm. “I meant just the two of us. As old and very dear friends.”

“Ah, but how would that look to my people, if I abandoned my glorious wife?”

“His boat sails against the stream now, LuLu,” her brother sneers. “Come on—this isn’t worth your time.”

With one more murderous glare at Jongdae, LuLu harrumphs primly, then stalks away with her nose held high.

“Thanks,” Xiumin murmurs to his wife, unable to resist pecking Jongdae’s chiseled cheekbone before releasing him to resume his place at Xiumin’s side.

“Yes, well done, glorious Phoenix,” Minsoo praises. “Now chat with Changmin, brother dearest, while your charming sister gets to know your exceptional wife.”

#  ♕♡♔

Jongdae’s not sure what compelled him to release Xiumin’s hand and take his sister’s instead. He chalks it up to the entire Jade bloodline containing entirely too much charisma. The Princess of Jade tugs him through the crowd toward the imperial seating, but instead of sitting down she merely bows and waves to her mother before collecting two goblets from one of the imperial servers. She hands one to Jongdae, then leads him off behind a tapestry evidently concealing a nook with a little bench. 

She releases Jongdae’s hand and gestures to the bench, and Jongdae agreeably sits beside her and sips at his drink. It’s a peachy summer wine and it feels like heaven on his throat.

“Since we’re family, we’ll talk comfortably,” Minsoo declares. “You’ll call me Minsoo and I’ll call you Jongdae.”

She lifts a brow and Jongdae nods his agreement, even though he intends to call her no such thing. He doesn’t even call his own brothers by their given names, much less the Princess of Jade, whether he outranks her or not. 

“You’re an incredibly handsome man, Jongdae,” she states. “My mother did an excellent job on that jacket.”

Jongdae nods, dropping his eyes to his skillfully-embroidered sleeves. It’s all but impossible to tell where the Dowager Empress changed from one color of silk floss to the next warmer shade, and he agrees that the overall effect is breathtaking.

“Does this mean she’s treating you well?” Minsoo asks.

Jongdae nods again. “The Dowager Empress has been most gracious in providing guidance where the Phoenix is lacking.”

“I’m sure my brother would say there’s nowhere you’re lacking,” she says with a wink.

“The Jade Emperor has been generous with praise,” Jongdae agrees.

“Do you love him?” the Jade Princess asks, leaning toward him inquisitively.

Jongdae blinks in surprise. “The Imperial Phoenix is devoted to the Jade Emperor,” he says, assuming Xiumin’s sister is testing his loyalty.

“That’s not what I asked,” she says. “The reason LuLu is glaring in an attempt to set your handsome jacket on actual fire is because my brother never looked at her the way he looks at you.”

Jongdae has no idea what she means. Xiumin looks at him with polite smiles like he does almost everyone else. “The Jade Emperor accords his Phoenix every honor,” he offers, because the Jade Princess evidently expects him to say something.

“Of course he does, he’s practically  _ made _ of honor,” she says, rolling her eyes. “But he looks at you with adoration, and I have never seen him so affected.”

Jongdae blinks. “Many apologies?”

She frowns. “So you don’t return his feelings, then?”

Jongdae’s gut flips and his heart pounds. “The Jade Emperor has only treated his Phoenix with polite regard,” he tries to explain. “It is more than an unconventional wife could expect.”

She presses her lips together. “So you’re both blind and he’s an idiot. Got it.”

Shocked, Jongdae can only gape at the diminutive woman. “The Jade Emperor is exceedingly wise—”

“Except when it comes to his own feelings, because princes are taught matters of state rather than matters of the heart,” she says. “He’s better than most, I’d say, because he has me and I’m amazing, but I see the two of you are going to need a little help.”

She leans incredibly close to Jongdae. “My brother is in love with you,” she says.

Jongdae rears back so his vision isn’t totally flooded with her conspiratorial smile. “I really don’t—” he says, remembering his formalities when she grins wickedly. 

“I really do,” she counters. “And I think you feel something for him, too. So I’m just going to suggest that if he does anything that looks like running away or feels like rejection, it’s only because he’s so damn used to following his untarnishable honor that he doesn’t know how to follow his heart.”

Jongdae has no idea how he’s supposed to respond to that.

He’s saved when the band starts up again and the Jade Princess’s face contorts into an expression of delight so like her brother’s Jongdae can’t help but coo internally.

“This is my favorite dance,” she says. “Do you know it?”

Jongdae cocks his head, then nods, recognizing the intro for a peppy number quite popular in Jakhan.

“Then let’s go!” She holds out her hand.

Jongdae only hesitates a moment before accepting. Surely no one can fault him for dancing with the Jade Emperor’s sister.

The Princess of Jade turns out to be an excellent dancer, and despite Yixing’s very useful dance lessons, Jongdae is much more comfortable following the usual masculine role. By the end of it they’re grinning at each other as they pant, hands clasped between them.

“You’re a lot of fun when you dare to slip out from beneath the cloak of duty,” she praises. “If you can ever manage to tug our XiuXiuMinnie out from behind the shield of his honor, you could both be really happy.”

“Who’s really happy?” 

Jongdae starts a bit as his husband’s voice sounds from beside him, but the Jade Princess merely turns to her brother with a smile.

“You and your delightful Phoenix, Brother Dearest,” she chirps, accepting her husband’s proffered arm.

“Oh.” Xiumin smiles. “Of course. He is delightful, indeed.” He holds out his hand to Jongdae just as the intro for the next dance begins.

Jongdae accepts, letting his husband’s sturdy fingers guide him safely through the sea of shifting bodies to a semi-secluded spot.

“The two of you looked like you were having fun,” Xiumin comments with a soft smile as they settle into the steps.

Xiumin’s hand is warm and firm against Jongdae’s waist and his shoulder is sturdy beneath Jongdae’s palm. “The Princess of Jade is enjoyable company.”

“Not as enjoyable as my Phoenix,” Xiumin counters, eyes curving as he twirls Jongdae beneath his arm.

“Flatterer,” Jongdae accuses, brows drawn down though the corners of his mouth are creeping up his cheeks. “Your Phoenix is already happily wed to the Jade Emperor.”

“Are you really?” Xiumin asks, tugging Jongdae forward until their chests almost bump.

“Wed to the Jade Emperor?” Jongdae pushes back until their arms are extended again.

“Happy,” Xiumin clarifies, face quiet as he rotates them.

Jongdae cocks his head in thought. He’s stressed and exhausted in a way he’s never been before, but his sister’s babies are growing well and seem happy, and Jongdae would like to think at least part of that is his doing.

“Yes,” he states, giving his husband a genuine smile. “I believe I am.”

#  ♔♡♕

_ Happy. _ His wife is  _ happy. _ Jongdae had said it with his own lips, and Xiumin has never known the man to lie. He hedges a lot, circumventing questions he’d rather not answer, and he agrees to things he doesn’t actually want. Jongdae is polite and diplomatic and dutiful. So, so dutiful.  _ Always. _

But he doesn’t make declarative statements that are false, and he’d used those turned-up lips to say “yes” and “I am.” Not “your Phoenix is grateful” or “your Phoenix is healthy and well provided for.” He’d said “I am,” in the first person, informally, almost like they were close. Almost like they were  _ friends. _

And then he’d smiled. A real one, not his public mask. Sure, it wasn’t as bright as when he’d smiled at Minsoo while they were dancing. Jongdae had  _ laughed _ with Minsoo, in public, purely because he’d been enjoying himself. But Xiumin isn’t going to be jealous about that. It’s only natural for a man to laugh with an enjoyable woman, and Minsoo has always been more charming than Xiumin. 

But now that he’s heard it, Xiumin covets that laugh. He’s heard Jongdae laugh before, but this had been entirely different. It hadn’t been a diffusion-of-nerves laugh or a polite-amusement laugh or, Xiumin’s favorite until recently, a look-how-adorable laugh, usually directed at the twins but once, in the garden, it had been triggered by Xiumin himself. And he’d treasured it.

But that was before he heard this  _ new _ laugh, the one that sounds so much like Jongdae’s spirit had been soaring, flying free on the warm breeze of pure joy.  _ That _ laugh is now Xiumin’s goal. He must hear it again. He needs to know he can send his wife’s spirit aloft.

His spirit. How had the song gone?  _ Your spirit bright and bold. _ That’s his Jongdae—bright and bold. He pretends to be demure and subdued because that’s what’s expected; that’s his  _ duty. _ But underneath, he’s actually bold, bold as thunder. Bright as lightning, just like in the song. 

Jongdae may not have selected the song, but he certainly fit it. Had he said Gookjoo had chosen it? That woman. Taking good care of his babies, and his Jongdae too.

Xiumin’s eyes are watering, but he chalks it up to the several goblets of sweet summer wine he’s consumed. He’s only tipsy; just a little humming in his veins to celebrate because  _ Jongdae. Is. Happy. _

And Jongdae keeps flushing whenever Xiumin looks at him which is all the time because Jongdae just keeps smiling. How can Xiumin not stare? Jongdae’s smile is his third favorite smile in the world. The twins come first, of course—they will  _ always _ come first—but Jongdae is only a heartbeat behind.

And everyone is smiling at Jongdae tonight, so Xiumin has plenty of basis for comparisons. And many of the smiles are quite enjoyable in their own right. His sister, smirking knowingly at him in the way that always makes him double-check the garderobe before using it. His mother, who has evidently forged some measure of truce with his wife, thank the stars. Kyungsoo, whose disarming smile is so often followed with a lethal maneuver of some kind but tonight just seems to hang on his cute little face.

But Jongdae’s outshines them all, even when he’s trying to swallow it or hide it behind his cup. Xiumin loves it, would love to know how to keep it there forever.

It’s twisting his spine to sit like this, turned so he can see his wife’s smile the best. Xiumin needs to straighten up, needs to  _ move _ before he bursts out of his skin. When the music changes, he finds his excuse.

“Dance with me again,” he says, grinning at his glorious wife.

Jongdae smiles at their clasped hands. “Very well. If the Jade Emperor commands.”

Xiumin frowns. “I’m not commanding. I’m beseeching.”

Jongdae huffs in amusement. “Why should the Dragon beseech when his every whim is indulged?”

Xiumin’s frown deepens. “Because it’s not. The Dragon’s power is exerted for the good of the Lohoryeo Empire and its allies, not for his own satisfaction.”

Jongdae’s eyes narrow suspiciously over his smile. “Surely the Jade Emperor has taken advantage of his station every now and then.”

Xiumin shakes his head. “I’m not saying I don’t benefit—obviously I do. But it’s not because I make selfish demands.” 

Nodding, Jongdae offers a wry smile. “Of course not. The Dragon doesn’t know how to be selfish.”

“The Dragon must always  _ act  _ selflessly,” Xiumin confirms. “But thoughts aren’t so incorruptible.”

Jongdae’s smile turns coy. “And what are the Dragon’s current thoughts?”

“That I’d like to dance with my wife,” he says again. “But only if he’d also enjoy doing so.” He shifts as if to stand up, watching Jongdae closely for signs of reluctance. He won’t take his pleasure if the price is his Phoenix’s discomfort.

But Jongdae’s smile is genuine as he rises with Xiumin’s hand still twined in his, and they move to the dance floor only for the music to shift from an upbeat dance to a slower, more intimate song.

Xiumin frowns, hesitating a little so that Jongdae looks over his shoulder when his arm trails behind him.

“Oh. Would the Dragon rather not?”

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Jongdae shrugs. “It’s one of the dances I’ve practiced, so I shouldn’t step on your toes too badly.”

When Xiumin still lingers, Jongdae’s eyes drop. “But I understand if you’d rather not hold another man so intimately in public. It’s important that your people believe their Dragon to be virile.”

Xiumin shakes himself. “What? No. That’s not it. I just hate emasculating you.” 

But they’re on the edge of the dance floor, and to turn away now would make it seem like he wasn’t willing to dance romantically with his wife and he wants no cause for rumors of discord in the imperial couple. This hesitation looks bad enough.

Jongdae’s upturned lips are pressed into a contemplative line as Xiumin gathers him close and begins to sway to the music. “Does the Jade Emperor truly have such little respect for women?”

Xiumin blinks. “What? No. Of course not—everyone equally deserves respect.”

“Then why does the Dragon think it offensive for his Phoenix to occasionally borrow a feminine role?”

“Because you’re not a woman.”

Jongdae hums. “Is a woman’s femininity reduced if she learns to fight?”

“Of course not. You’ve met my sister—she learned close combat alongside me.”

“So a woman can use her body for a hard purpose and be feminine, but if a man uses his body for a soft purpose, he’s emasculated?”

Xiumin frowns. “I guess that’s the wrong word. I just don’t want anyone to think you’re… Submissive. Weak.”

“So, the fierce Princess of Jade and terrifying Dowager Empress should take the masculine position when they dance?”

The Jade Emperor laughs wryly. “You use such polite speech to make me sound so foolish.”

“More proof that dancing on this side of the embrace fails to make your Phoenix submissive.”

Xiumin laughs. “No. You are agreeable and entirely too accommodating, but my wife is far from submissive.” 

The song shifts again, and the imperial couple assume the new dance’s positioning. “Still, though,” Xiumin continues. “I feel a little guilty that such a great man is consigned to be my wife instead of some lucky woman’s husband.”

Jongdae smiles as Xiumin twirls him. “It’s true your Phoenix never expected to be anybody’s wife, but your Phoenix never planned to be anyone’s husband, either.”

Right. Jongdae had told him about this. “You were meant to be a monk.”

“Yes,” Jongdae confirms, shifting smoothly into the next maneuver.

“In that case, I feel a little guilty for interfering with your calling.”

Jongdae snorts. “It wasn’t a calling, it was just expected. If there are more than three royal heirs in Jakhan, the youngest goes to the monastery. To thank the divine for such fortune, it is said, but mainly to lower the chances of a squabble for succession. Your Phoenix was fifth-born, and all siblings have always been healthy.”

“Damned by duty, either way,” Xiumin shakes his head.

Jongdae shrugs. “There’s no need for guilt—your Phoenix volunteered to fill the role. Given the choice, this life appealed far more to your Phoenix than what awaited on Ulleung Island.”

Xiumin smiles. “Then your Dragon is pleased to have spared his Phoenix from such a fate.”

#  ♕♡♔

The imperial couple ascends to their chambers together, though this time it’s the Jade Emperor supporting his exhausted wife on the way up the stairs.

“You’ll be able to sleep later, now, won’t you?” Xiumin asks as Jongdae smudges his eye makeup with a fist.

“Thank the stars, yes,” Jongdae sighs as they enter the Dragon’s sitting room. 

He gives Xiumin’s hand a squeeze and moves toward the phoenix-adorned door to his own parlor, stopping short when his hand isn’t released. He looks from the held hand up Xiumin’s arm to his face, lifting his brows in inquiry.

“Um,” Xiumin says, looking almost shy. “Would you help me with my hairpins? I’ll help you with yours.”

“Oh,” Jongdae says. “Of course. Let me wash my face and change to my bedrobe, then I’ll be back.”

Xiumin doesn’t seem tipsy but his face is certainly flushed as they sit in front of Xiumin’s vanity, side by side on the bench, torsos turned to simultaneously work pins from each other’s hair.

“Yours is getting long,” Xiumin notes, running his fingers through the lengthening strands in a way that makes Jongdae want to moan at the sheer pleasure of the sensation.

“Well, regardless of what role I’m dressing for in Lohoryeo, growing it out seemed the fashionable choice,” Jongdae smiles. “Plus it’s easier for the pins to grip if there’s more of it.”

“I like it,” Xiumin says. “It’s so sleek and silky. Like feathers.”

Jongdae chuckles. “Well, I am your Phoenix, so I suppose that’s fitting.”

“Wrong color, though,” Xiumin smiles, closing his eyes as his topknot comes undone and Jongdae can extract his revenge by dragging his own fingertips over his husband’s scalp. “And your eyes are fiery, but your hair is soft. Much more like, well, a magpie.” He laughs.

Jongdae joins him. “Well, I am that, too.” He’s amused by the way the Jade Emperor leans into his palm like an affection-starved cat.

Xiumin opens his eyes. “Yes, I think you are. Right now, at least. I wish I saw more of the Magpie, playful and happy. You’re almost always the Phoenix, dutiful and virtuous.”

Jongdae tilts his head. “Who was it who told me the Dragon isn’t allowed to think of himself? Is he the same one who came up with an excuse to get his wife to stroke his hair?”

Xiumin’s eyes close again as color rises to his cheeks. “Tigers are proud, but all cats enjoy being stroked from time to time.”

Jongdae huffs. “You are all but purring.”

He runs his fingers through Xiumin’s hair for a bit longer just to earn more smiles and sighs from his clearly-delighted husband. If the Jade Emperor isn’t interested in availing himself of his wife’s body, Jongdae will do his best to relax his husband like this. 

And Xiumin’s fingers feel nice in his own hair, fluffing it freely again after being twisted and pinned for so long. The celebration had lasted all day, with religious blessings in the morning, martial displays in the afternoon, and then of course the dramatic evening entertainment of which Jongdae had been a part, so he’d worn the Phoenix’s crown since the early hours. He probably has permanent dents in his scalp, but maybe they’ll just make it easier to wear the heavy gold headpiece next time.

“You should sleep, Augustus,” Jongdae murmurs the second time the Jade Emperor jolts sharply upright after leaning into his wife’s touch for a beat too long.

Xiumin looks almost heartbroken. “As should you,” he sighs. 

Jongdae expects to be led to the Dragon’s bedchamber, but instead he’s escorted to the phoenix door without even an inquiry as to whether he’d like to stay.

“Well, goodnight, Augustus,” Jongdae says awkwardly, feeling like he should depart with an embrace or a kiss or something more than just a squeeze of the hand. 

But a squeeze is all the Jade Emperor offers his wife, so Jongdae smiles and pretends that’s enough.

#  ♔♡♕

Jongdae may be secure enough in his masculinity to be entirely unbothered by filling traditionally feminine roles, but he’s still not at all feminine himself. That doesn’t stop Xiumin from thinking about his silky hair and intense eyes far more than is good for his productivity. He’s distracted during council meetings, wondering what it would be like to press his lips against those prominent cheekbones. He stares at Jongdae’s mouth as he concentrates on his embroidery, tongue peeking out to drag contemplatively over lips made perfectly for smiling. 

His feelings for his wife remind him oddly of the teenage crushes he’d harbored for his language arts tutor or his sister’s favorite handmaiden or Princess LuLu of Rangguk. Except it’s way more intense, because he’s not really lusting for Jongdae. It’s more that he has this need to please him, to make him happy. It has to be, because he’s not going to take advantage of Jongdae’s undying sense of duty for his own selfish satisfaction.

He knows what Jongdae’s lips feel like against his own. He knows what Jongdae’s body feels like pressed against his mattress. He knows what it feels like when Jongdae’s fingers run through his unbound hair. And he knows that all he’d have to do is ask, and Jongdae would promptly provide him with all those sensations and more.

But he can’t ask. He must be strong. Jongdae would cooperate, but Xiumin would still be forcing himself on someone he’s come to value for far more than the physical release his body could provide. He can’t abuse his power over his wife like that, and he should really stop finding excuses to touch a man that only permits him to do so out of duty.

He must convince himself he wants Jongdae’s lips to curve into a smile rather than part for a kiss. That he has the urge to squeeze him and nuzzle his cheek in the same hyper-affectionate way he feels about his adorable heirs. And that it’s because he cares for Jongdae’s health that he notes whether his hair is shiny and his eyes are bright. The man’s well-being is his responsibility, and Xiumin must always remember that.

“I’m glad you’re pleased with your wife, but it’s getting a little weird to constantly catch you undressing him with your eyes.”

Xiumin cuts his eyes sideways to glare at Kyungsoo. “Don’t be disrespectful,” he chides. “I’m merely stretching my back and watching my family enjoy the gardens.”

“You’re looking out that window like you’ve just trekked across a desert and it’s separating you from water,” Kyungsoo laughs.

“I am not,” Xiumin denies, resuming his seat behind his desk to scowl at the fresh pile of reports. 

“If you say so,” Kyungsoo shrugs. “But if you’re going to take a break, you’d hardly be the first man to seek his wife out for an active lunch.”

Xiumin feels his cheeks grow hot. “I would never.”

“Then maybe start your mornings with some bedsport, so you can keep your mind off your wife’s charms for long enough to get something done.”

Xiumin scowls at his milk-brother. “I’ve gotten plenty done. My desk was empty before you showed up.”

“Fair enough. But there won’t be many more nice days like this. Go kiss your babies, take Jongdae into the bower, and come back fresh once your wife has thoroughly relaxed you.”

_ Do not think about Jongdae in the bower. _ “I’m fine. He’s enjoying himself. I’m not going to interrupt—as you say, there won’t be many more days he’ll be able to play outside with the twins.”

Kyungsoo narrows his eyes. “Fine. But I’m kicking you out of this study in time to have dinner with him.”

“I need to get this done.” Sitting across from Jongdae in his chambers and watching him put food between those lips would definitely not help his situation.

“Who was complaining about neglecting his wife?” Kyungsoo chides. “You’ve basically lived in this office since Coronation Day. Poor guy’s going to think you’re deliberately avoiding him or something.”

That would be likely, considering Xiumin  _ is _ deliberately avoiding him. “Fine. We’ll have dinner. Make the arrangements.”

“As Your Imperial Highness commands,” Kyungsoo smiles. He turns to leave, then turns back. “If that sculpture behind you is meant for your wife’s birthday gift, I highly commend your choice.”

Xiumin can’t help but smile at that, glancing over his shoulder at the gleaming work of art. Cast of highly-polished gold, a three-dimensional lightning bolt branches from an invisible cloud to balance on a trio of tendrils caressing a base of white jade. It will look stunning on the table in front of Jongdae’s window, and Xiumin smiles whenever he thinks about Jongdae’s face when he discovers it there after the birthday gala.

#  ♕♡♔

Jongdae’s cheeks hurt from smiling so much. He’s been doing it all day, ever since he’d been woken up by his chambermaid with an announcement that his breakfast was ready. He’d found the usual assortment of fruit accompanying rice porridge that had been tinted pink by the addition of red ginseng. Resting in the center of the bowl was a sugar-paste plum blossom, and that had triggered the first smile.

His new clothes—chosen by his husband and embroidered by his mother-in-law—had drawn more smiles, as had the new set of jeweled hairpins to go with them. His hair is finally long enough to pull into the tiniest of topknots, and he’d grinned at himself the whole time Baekhyun worked to get him ready for the grand gala.

He’d tried to temper his expectations, figuring the first birthday celebration of an unconventional Phoenix not even six months since his arrival at the palace was bound to be generic and reserved. Instead, he’d found himself being presented with a dramatization of the court session that had earned him his epithet. His favorite part had been that the actor portraying the Jade Emperor had looked more feminine than the one portraying the Phoenix. 

Their efforts to represent Xiumin’s smooth, youthful face, large eyes, and pouty lips had made the poor actor look rather like a cross-dresser. The actor portraying the Phoenix had been subjected to dramatic contouring of his face to mimic Jongdae’s cheekbones, and they’d drawn a fairly convincing-looking line extending the man’s lips into a hint of a smile. The person playing Kyungsoo had actually  _ been _ a woman, but she’d done a brilliant job of roughening her voice and stalking around like a caged predator, chin tucked to her chest and glaring at the “court” in a way so like the Archchancellor that Xiumin had been suppressing laughter throughout the entire show.

The script had evidently been taken from court transcripts and seemed to be a word-for-word reenactment, the main difference being that they’d made Mr. Gao ugly and mean and Mrs. Song older and more pitiable. The daughter and son were played by a lovely couple, and they both managed to summon up tears on command to enhance their performance.

In all, it had been an entertaining, flattering production, and Jongdae had thoroughly enjoyed it. He’d also enjoyed the ballad version of the tale, mostly faithful to the actual dialogue except where it had been tweaked to make it rhyme appealingly. And the rest of the performances had to do with plum blossoms, magpies, phoenixes, and one astonishing act that had turned Jongdae’s smile into an awed gape.

Someone had trained an orange tabby tomcat to rub up against a sleek white tom that had been yowling over the prone form of a “deceased” (except for the occasionally-twitching tail) mother cat. The orange tabby had gathered up the two little white kittens, then curled around them while the white tom groomed its ear.

“I always wanted a kitten as a child,” Xiumin had laughingly confessed. “Apparently I now have two.”

Two of Jongdae’s brothers had made the long journey, and they're seated on the dais with the imperial family for the evening meal. They look almost relieved to see Jongdae looking so well, in men's attire, being treated so warmly by his new people. Xiumin is polite and charming with them, setting them at ease and praising Jongdae endlessly. He even drops into semi-formal speech, encouraging them to do the same.

"The brothers of my wife are as family to the Jade Emperor," Xiumin assures them, "and family is polite but not stuffy. Share some of Guri’s famous ice wine and tell us stories of my wife as a youth."

They do, and Jongdae’s fears of embarrassment prove unfounded. The stories they relate are of Jongdae excelling in their academic tutoring, often outdoing his siblings despite being the youngest of them.

"I am most pleased to have such a clever wife," Xiumin says, then proceeds to relate his own perspective of the plum-blossom story, holding Jongdae’s hand the whole time.

The food is excellent as always and presented beautifully, plum blossoms and phoenixes featuring prominently in the theming. And once the supper tables have been cleared away, there’s dancing, and Jongdae’s still smiling as Xiumin leads him out onto the floor.

Much to the delight of the crowd, Xiumin attempts to assume the feminine role for a few of the simpler dances. Jongdae can’t stop laughing as he leads his husband around the floor, watching him flush at his own awkwardness but gamely persisting in the role-reversal. As the evening progresses, Jongdae notices more than a few other couples laughing at their own attempts to switch sides of the embrace.

“My wife is such a trend-setter,” Xiumin chuckles when he notices a tiny woman attempting to twirl a much taller man under her arm. The man is scrunching down almost into a squat, and both partners are laughing so hard by the time they complete the maneuver they end up just clinging to each other for the rest of the song.

“This was the Jade Emperor’s idea,” Jongdae reminds him. “But your Phoenix thinks it’s nice. Trading shoes with someone generally makes people appreciate each other more.”

“I absolutely appreciate you,” Xiumin says, tone serious but a smile still lingering in his eyes. “Even when I’m not drunk, I think you’re the best wife I could have possibly asked for, and evidently our people agree. They’ve obviously worked hard to give you a personalized celebration.”

“It’s been wonderful,” Jongdae agrees. “Your Phoenix feels incredibly honored. It’s far more than what was expected.”

“You deserve every bit of it and more,” Xiumin beams. “And I bet you’ll hardly be able to walk through your parlor for all the gifts that will be piled up waiting for you.”

“Your Phoenix doesn’t need or expect fancy presents,” Jongdae demurs.

“All the more reason why he should have them,” Xiumin states, then pulls off a pretty little pirouette under Jongdae’s uplifted arm.

Jongdae’s smile finally falls when Xiumin escorts him up to their chambers but bids him goodnight in front of the Phoenix door.

“Doesn’t the Jade Emperor want help with the hairpins?” Jongdae asks.

“I don’t want to distract you from your mountain of gifts,” Xiumin smiles. “Don’t stay up too late, my Phoenix.”

And there are the usual guards in the hallway, so there’s nothing Jongdae can do but smile and thank him and wish him restful sleep instead of admitting that he wants Xiumin’s hands in his hair far more than any other gift.

He manages to withhold his sigh until he’s in his chambers. There is indeed a mountain of packages exceeding the one he’d discovered after the wedding, and there are at least a dozen wrapped in dragon-embroidered cloth of gold.

And then there’s the breathtaking sculpture now adorning the table in front of the window, looking particularly striking against the imperial purple curtains. It could only have come from one person, and Jongdae’s heart does a weird little skippy-thud when he remembers the song that must have inspired the gift. 

In the song, the singer had been in love with the person repeatedly compared to lightning, but Jongdae quickly squelches that thought as ridiculous. Despite the bold claims by the Princess of Jade, Jongdae has seen no evidence that Xiumin is any more fond of Jongdae than he is of said sister or Kyungsoo or his children. Jongdae knows Xiumin cares about him, is proud of him, and seems genuinely fond of him. But love is a bit much. Jongdae’s not even sure that love is a desirable thing in a marriage like theirs.

It’s better that they’re trusted partners, guiding the empire and raising the children. It’s not that Jongdae finds the idea of loving another man objectionable—while he’d never considered it as an option before his marriage, he’d not really considered a relationship with a woman an option either. He’d found it best to ignore what he wasn’t destined to have, and that seems like the best option in this case, too.

Xiumin has made it exceptionally clear that, while he may like Jongdae, even enjoy trading a bit of physical affection, he has no desire for Jongdae like a man typically has for his wife. And it’s not like Jongdae even expected him to, though the whole no-orgasms-for-either-of-them clause Xiumin’s locked them into wasn’t exactly anticipated. He’d expected to meet his own needs while Xiumin satisfied himself with a concubine or three, content that he’d be raising the Jade heirs even if the Dragon sired other offspring.

But the man just had to be entirely faithful to his wife while completely uninterested in letting that wife touch him intimately. So he’s definitely not in love or anything remotely close, and had merely remembered that the song mentioned lightning and so acquired a sculpture as a reminder of the time Jongdae sang for him.

That’s the only possible explanation, and Jongdae reminds himself of this repeatedly as he unwraps the rest of his husband’s exorbitant gifts and lays them out on the table beside the sculpture. 

Sweet orange-scented toiletries, for Jongdae’s benefit alone, since Xiumin is rarely close enough to know what Jongdae smells like. A phoenix-carved boar-bristle hairbrush, because Xiumin evidently won’t be running his fingers through it anymore. There’s a matching hand mirror, as if Jongdae’s going to primp anywhere other than his dressing room. Lots of gold jewelry and hairpins with phoenixes, styled to emphasize masculine traits rather than feminine ones. Xiumin’s very clear that he doesn’t like when his wife is feminized, yet another sign that the Jade Emperor has zero interest in marital congress with his wife. A phoenix-adorned ink and quill set, so Jongdae can continue to document the daily lives of the Jade Emperor’s children. A new bedrobe that Xiumin will probably never even see. And new, thicker bedding and cozy damask slippers more insulated than his current pair, because autumn’s chill will inevitably give way to winter’s cold, and it’s hard to keep one’s feet warm enough when sleeping alone.

All of it just continues to prove that Xiumin appreciates him, is proud of him, and wants him to be comfortable. Jongdae is lucky that he ended up with a husband that sees him as a favored business associate. This should all be soothing and reassuring and satisfying.

When he’s bundled up in his bed in his new bedrobe, smelling of sweet citrus, wearing his new slippers beneath his new bedding, Jongdae has no explanation for the tears that insist on leaking from below his lowered eyelashes.

#  ♔♡♕

It’s not Jongdae’s fault he’s way too appealing for his own good, so Xiumin does his best not to avoid the man. However, he also tries very hard never to be alone with him, and certainly never in anything but full and proper dress. It’s still killing him slowly to continuously subject himself to the object of his sordid desires but he refuses to let his own dishonorable feelings prevent him from acting anything but honorably toward the man he married.

To Kyungsoo’s blatant approval, Xiumin tries to have dinner with his wife at least once per week. Under the guise of familiarizing his wife with the palace—which he made sure to explicitly state is his to explore—Xiumin has food sent to them in the solarium, the conservatory, the menagerie, or the gallery. He makes sure to pick up his wife from the Phoenix’s own chambers and walk there at a leisurely pace, pointing out landmarks and other places of interest to ensure Jongdae knows his way around.

And Jongdae seems thrilled to get to spend some time “alone” with his husband even though Xiumin has ensured they’re in a public-enough space that he’s better able to keep his hands properly to himself. Except for holding Jongdae’s hand—he’ll let them both have that bit of human contact, at least. 

Jongdae doesn’t quite relax completely since anyone could walk in and encounter them at any moment, which sadly means he maintains a moderate level of formality in his speech. But Xiumin is still the target of many smiles and occasional laughter, to the Jade Emperor’s simultaneous delight and dismay.

The courtiers are no longer reluctant in any way to socialize with the Imperial Phoenix, and the Dowager Empress is always co-hosting teas and luncheons with Jongdae so as to further cement the growing connections. The gatherings Xiumin hears reports of seem to include plenty of dandies as well as the more outgoing ladies of the court, several names he recognizes from the Guardian Phoenix’s own suarees. 

On the one hand, Xiumin is relieved that Jongdae is being folded into the palace social scene. The winters in Guri are long, so having ample social diversions seems to keep the palace denizens from getting too restless. Jongdae’s first winter in his new home will be much less taxing with many distractions. But as Jongdae’s calendar fills up, Xiumin finds it a little harder to squeeze in significant stretches of quality time with him. Some weeks, he’s only able to join Jongdae for some baby-cuddling before bed, but it still gives him the chance to skewer his heart on his wife’s smile.

The babies continue to do well, kept warm in their nursery by ceramic pots beneath their cribs that hold hot coals safely away from flammable objects. They’re more mobile every day, so staying ahead of their curious fingers and rapid crawling is an ongoing challenge per Gookjoo’s daily reports. Xiumin feels like they’ve suddenly gone from gurgling lumps to actual tiny people practically overnight, but of course he rarely sees them when they’re actually awake. He feels guilty for missing their milestones, but he soothes himself with the knowledge that they’re in good hands, that Jongdae is no doubt chronicling everything, that he’ll be able to answer when they ask when they cut their first tooth or first sat up by themselves. It’s enough that someone’s there to properly appreciate each of their accomplishments, even if it’s a bit regretful Xiumin can’t be there himself. 

Xiumin does his best to convince himself he’s happy, ignoring the fact that he basically lives for festivals. He’s always enjoyed the palace celebrations in the past, but now he craves the excuse to dance with his wife. It’s such sweet torment to hold Jongdae close while he smiles, and Xiumin finds himself counting days until the harvest festival and then ticking off the days until the midwinter banquet.

“How are you going to top the lightning sculpture?” Kyungsoo asks one afternoon when he drops off yet more reports.

Xiumin sighs. “Well, I’ve commissioned an entire wardrobe’s worth of quilted clothing—my southern wife seems perpetually cold.”

“That’s a start, but a bit too practical to be properly romantic.”

Xiumin suppresses a scowl. The last thing he’s willing to be with Jongdae is romantic. “I have a few ideas. I’m just not sure which one to formally present him with.”

“Perhaps your Archchancellor can be of service,” Kyungsoo smiles.

“I had a jeweller take impressions of the babies’ feet when they were born. He’s made golden casts of their tiny feet and made them into pendants on a pair of chains.”

“Nice. He’ll love that. But if you’re trying to convince him he’s not a glorified nanny, that’s a gift to mark as being from the children and give in private.”

“That’s the plan. But I also have a weiqi set with a phoenix-carved board and pieces made of white and green jade.”

“Fancy. But that’s not the one you’re thinking about, is it?

Xiumin smiles down at his desk. “There’s a cloak. Thick and warm, and done in Jakhan’s indigo black and white with a hood like a magpie’s head.”

“More promising.”

“It’s reversible, and the other side is red and gold with a phoenix-head hood.”

“Perfect.”

Xiumin grins at his Archchancellor. “I rather thought so, but it’s reassuring that you agree.”

“Of course I agree. A magpie for happiness and a phoenix for virtue—what better symbols to honor what your Grand Prince Consort means to you?”

Xiumin can only grin down at his paperwork. He can hardly wait for midwinter. 

#  ♕♡♔

Jongdae is never going to make it to midwinter. He’ll be an absolute icicle well before then. It doesn’t seem to matter how many blankets are piled on top of him or how many clothes he wears to bed, he still shivers himself to sleep every night.

He remembers his sister reporting in one of her letters that she’d been incredibly grateful that her lady’s maid had taken to sharing her bed to keep her warm at night, but that is in no way an option for Jongdae. Since he’s married to a man, it would be considered entirely scandalous for him to have any servant in his bed, male or female.

He’s starting to wonder how scandalous it would be instead to sleep on the nursery floor next to the coal-filled ceramic pots that keep the imperial heirs nice and toasty.

He finally gives up the night he can see his own breath when bundled into his massive blanket cocoon. Teeth chattering, he makes his way across the parlor to the dragon-carved door. It’s not locked—it’s not even able to be locked, so that the Jade Emperor has constant access to his wife. Still, Jongdae hesitates until a full-body shiver convinces him that dignity is secondary to survival.

He laughs at himself when he realizes he’s practically tiptoeing through the Dragon’s sitting room, as if he’s somehow forbidden to be in his own husband’s chambers. He’s shivering so violently that any attempt at stealth would be laughable in any case, which is enough motivation to push open the door to his husband’s bedchamber with little hesitation.

The hesitation comes when the moonlight filters into the darkened room enough to gently caress the Jade Emperor’s face. He’s the most powerful man in the known world, yet he looks so soft and small in his huge bed, radiating childlike innocence and serenity that’s rarely apparent when he’s awake.

But the gentle light is still enough to prompt his husband’s face to scrunch and his eyes to slit open sleepily.

“Hngdae?”

“Apologies. I wouldn’t disturb you if I weren’t desperate, but I’m too cold to sleep alone.”

“Mmf. Climb in if y’ want, but ‘m not dressed.”

“Honestly, I don’t care if you’re hiding tentacles under there as long as they’re warm.”

Xiumin’s lips quirk. “Kay.” He shifts out of the shaft of light to the previously-unoccupied side of the bed. “Get in where’s already warm.”

Making note of the path to the side of the bed, Jongdae gently shuts the door behind himself and gropes through the near-total darkness to his destination. He bites back a moan of pleasure as he slides beneath the blankets, immediately shedding his insulated robe before he starts to sweat.

“Stars, you’re toasty,” Jongdae sighs as he settles into the warmth in only his smallclothes, undertunic, and cozy slippers.

Xiumin chuckles sleepily and shifts so they’re lying back to back, delicious heat radiating from his bare torso through Jongdae’s linen undertunic.

“Thanks,” Jongdae whispers, receiving only a grunt in return. 

But that’s perfectly fine, because Jongdae’s asleep as soon as his eyes close. At some point in the night, he’s vaguely aware of Xiumin draping an arm and a leg over him, triggering Jongdae to cuddle happily into the additional warmth. Guri’s winters will be quite tolerable if he can spend every night like this.

#  ♔♡♕

Xiumin is having the strangest dream. He’s running, trying to get… somewhere, but he can’t. He’s stuck partway through and can’t quite finish what he’s trying to do. He struggles, trying to release the coiling sensation deep in his gut, but it’s just not enough. He can’t get enough friction to make himself feel better.

“Augustus?”

Xiumin’s favorite face swims into view, and Xiumin’s frustration ignites, hot and insistent in his gut. He’s drowning in those crinkly eyes and curly kitten lips, and the smile on that chiseled face is like Xiumin’s own personal sunshine is bathing him in an addicting glow. It smells like sunshine, too, all sweet and citrusy and alluring.

“Augustus, let me help you.”

For some reason, Xiumin shies away from this, but a reassuring pressure against his hip grounds him.

“Please, Augustus. Let your wife provide relief. You look so uncomfortable.”

Xiumin is no longer floating, trying to find purchase in a void. He clenches his fists in fabric, determined to hang on to this newfound stability. He still can’t quite release the tension in his belly and he wants to bellow his frustration to the universe.

“It’s alright, Augustus. I’ve got you.”

Blessed warmth surrounds the center of his frustration, providing soothing friction. Xiumin moans in relief. It will all be over soon. Xiumin’s favorite eyes are still smiling at him, the pressure around his need tightens wonderfully, and his favorite voice murmurs encouragements as he bucks into that glorious friction.

“That’s it. Yes, take your pleasure. Release that tension. Just let go.”

And Xiumin does let go, throwing his head back in a silent scream of relief. Lightning explodes down his spine and throughout his core before pouring out of him in white-hot pulses as that beautiful smile breaks into a grin.

“Yes, Augustus. Let it all out.” 

Xiumin is boneless, floating, buoyed up by a fluffy sense of satisfaction and warmth. He lets out a deep sigh of utter contentment as he opens his eyes.

And finds himself a handspan away from Jongdae’s bashful smile.

Xiumin blinks as he registers someone else’s fingers curled around his softening cock, then his jaw drops in horror as he scrambles back, appalled at himself.

Jongdae’s face shutters like a lantern against the wind, closing off the glow and presenting an impervious mask.

“Apologies. Your Phoenix has overstepped. It won’t happen again.”

Before Xiumin can react, Jongdae slips out of bed and stoops to gather his robe. Then he’s gone, leaving Xiumin alone with his boiling shame.

#  ♕♡♔

Jongdae is the worst wife ever and he’d been fooling himself if he’d ever believed otherwise. They’d been getting along so well that it had been so easy to wonder if his husband was actually trying to court him, if all the heated looks and flushed cheeks had been an awkward sort of flirting. The Jade Emperor had finally been sending him these definitely-positive but otherwise rather ambiguous signals for months, but he’d never touched Jongdae outside of dancing or holding his hand.

Until that morning, when he’d blinked sleepily before gripping Jongdae’s undertunic like a drowning man grips a floating log, clinging to his wife as if Jongdae were the only thing in the world that could save him. So save him Jongdae had—at least, he’d meant to. Instead, he’d ended up horrifying his husband with his lewd act.

Now he’s miserable, huddled in his frigid bed with his hand still sticky despite defiling an innocent set of smallclothes in the laundry hamper, the scent of Xiumin’s satisfaction still thick in Jongdae’s nose. And to top it all off, he’d evidently enjoyed tugging soft little grunts out of his husband’s barely-parted lips, because he’s uncomfortably hard and way too ashamed to do anything about it.

He’s even more ashamed when the chambermaids enter his room hours later, because they’ve brought thick sheepskins along with fresh linens.

“If it please the Phoenix, it’s warmest if one sheepskin is wool-up beneath Your Imperial Highness, and another is wool-down above. The linens and comforters often go on top of that.”

Jongdae can only nod.

“The Jade Emperor also said to send a pageboy to the Phoenix’s chambers in the evening should additional warmth be desired.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Jongdae declines. “But the sheepskins are appreciated.”

He wraps himself in his warmest robe and hides in his dressing room, wondering if the Dowager Empress will notice if he wears one outfit overtop another. Baekhyun saves him by bringing in a beautifully-quilted formal jacket and a pair of silk-lined woolen trousers.

“The Jade Emperor sends this along with his apologies. He’d meant to gift you with many quilted outfits at midwinter, but he decided you’d appreciate having them as they become finished rather than waiting another three weeks.”

If Jongdae had any pride left, he’d have felt bad for ruining his husband’s surprise. Instead, he dives for the clothing, pulling it on quickly before returning to the parlor to huddle miserably with his hands wrapped around his bowl of hot tea, cuddling with the porcelain between sips of blessed warmth.

“You look pathetic,” the Dowager Empress announces as she enters for their morning “council.”

“The Phoenix is aware of being a weak-blooded southerner unfit to share the throne with the robust and mighty Jade Emperor,” Jongdae all but snaps as he bows his greeting, wanting to get the personal insults over with and move on to the scathing remarks about his inability to get his decorative knots to lie close and tidy against the fabric.

The woman stops as suddenly as if she’d been struck, and Jongdae winces.

“Apologies, venerable Dowager Empress. The Phoenix should not have spent ill temper where it wasn’t deserved.”

“Considering the many times I have deserved ill temper and you’ve held your tongue, I’m inclined to let it slide,” the Dowager Empress says with a little smile. “But let’s encourage your temper to heat your fingers instead of your tongue—there are only a few weeks left before midwinter, and the project you’ve chosen is ambitious. You’ll need to work quickly and correctly to get it finished in time."

Jongdae nods and takes up his position by the embroidery frame, no longer nearly as excited about the gift he’d planned for his husband. The Dowager Empress will ask awkward questions if he doesn’t work diligently to finish it, but Jongdae decides to visit the gallery before court to leave a summons for the palace’s resident painter. Xiumin will appreciate a portrait of his babies far more than mediocre embroidery representing a conversation Jongdae had found particularly symbolic but which the Jade Emperor has probably forgotten. 

Even if he hasn’t, it’s painfully clear that whatever the offhand comments had meant to Jongdae, they’d meant nothing to the man he married.

#  ♔♡♕

Xiumin has ruined everything. He’s absolutely furious with himself for abusing his poor wife who’d only wanted a warm place to sleep. He’ll never be able to look Jongdae in the eye after disgracing himself like that, and he hates his stupid body for repeatedly reminding him just how  _ good _ it had felt to empty himself into his wife’s fist.

Stars, he’s so pathetic. 

But he manages to put on his public smile during court even though he pretty much has to take Jongdae’s hand, the same hand that had so easily drawn pleasure out of him like he were a pubescent schoolboy. Those firm fingers resting against his palm only make him think about how they felt against his dick, but since he’s established this hand-holding routine, his people are sure to notice and gossip if he stops.

Jongdae had flushed a little when he’d first seen Xiumin, but his expression is perfectly controlled at the moment. There’s no sign of unease or disharmony except that the smiles he offers Xiumin are a bit tentative. Xiumin tries to smile back, but he knows Jongdae can tell he’s forcing it.

Thankfully, court only lasts a handful of hours, most people having better things to do in the freezing weather than trek to the palace to complain about their neighbors. But that leaves Xiumin with a few hours before his next scheduled meeting, and if he were a good husband he’d be jumping at the chance to spend some time with his wife.

He hides in his office instead, like the dishonorable coward he’s become.

This routine persists for weeks, with Xiumin managing to see his wife only at court. He doesn’t miss the way Jongdae’s serene and placid impartial-listener expression is replaced with a dull, listless demeanor when Xiumin drops the man’s hand and flees his company, but he doesn’t know what else to do. He doesn’t know how to reset their relationship now that he’s crossed the line. He doesn’t know how to regain his wife’s trust and respect after dishonoring himself and his wife so shamefully.

He’d been so looking forward to the midwinter banquet but now he’s dreading the event. There’s no dancing in favor of huddling around braziers while bards and minstrels sing of warmth and summer and romance. Even the imperial couple is expected to cuddle, seated in a sparkling loveseat adorned with snowflakes. Which means Xiumin is stuck for hours smiling next to his smiling wife, his arm wrapped around Jongdae’s shoulders while his hand rests on Xiumin’s knee.

It’s nothing short of torture.

His traitorous body is thrilled at the close proximity, especially since Jongdae again smells of sweet orange and he vividly remembers inhaling the scent as he’d thrust his hips against his wife’s warm body. He spends the entire night flooded with shame, grateful that his flushed cheeks can be blamed on the alcohol he’s consumed exactly none of. 

He can’t risk letting his control slip and doing something even more damaging.

The imperial gifts are exchanged at the climax of the celebration, Xiumin exclaiming in genuine delight over the pair of portraits his wife had commissioned for him. The images of his twins are immediately recognizable and he smiles at the paintings, wondering if he should have presented Jongdae with the golden casts of the newborns’ feet.

Instead, he makes a show of draping Jongdae in the cloak, phoenix side out, without even mentioning the magpie hiding on the other side. He’ll likely never get to see the magpie again, and he’d rather not remind them both of his failures in public.

Jongdae looks honestly appreciative of the gift, even going so far as to press a kiss against his cheek as their people coo. His Phoenix has learned well how to win the hearts of their subjects, and Xiumin has no choice but to endure the twist of the knife with a smile.

He drops his wife off at his chambers with a polite goodnight and the excuse that he’s got some urgent paperwork to finish up. Instead, he retreats to his office with a bottle of strong spirits and drinks himself to sleep in his desk chair.

Xiumin regrets this act immensely when he wakes up stiff and hungover in the morning. Cursing internally at his continued penchant for making bad decisions, he slinks back to his chambers to ready himself for the day.

His feelings of self-loathing only grow when he finds a gold-wrapped gift waiting for him on his vanity. He undoes the shimmering cloth to discover a small tapestry that he spreads out on the surface of the dressing table. It depicts a magpie sitting on a pine branch with a white tiger prowling below. The animals are looking at each other, mouths slightly open as if they’re having a conversation.

There’s a note torn from one of Jongdae’s journals enclosed along with the embroidered image.

_ I wasn’t going to give this to you but then I found the magpie hidden within the beautiful phoenix cloak you gave me. I know you’re disgusted with me and I understand that I broke your trust, but I miss occasionally being your magpie instead of always being your Phoenix. You’ve made it clear that you have no desire for me as a lover and I promise to respect the limitations you’ve placed on our relationship. However, I do hope we can once again find our way to being friends. _

_ Regardless of what you decide, I remain forever _

_ Your Phoenix _

Xiumin has to read the note three times to be sure he’s seeing the actual words and not some hangover-inflicted misperception, but even when he’s sure he’s reading it correctly it still doesn’t make any sense. How could Jongdae think Xiumin is disgusted with him? 

_ Maybe because you freaked out after letting him please you and then avoided him for weeks, _ he chides himself in a voice that sounds oddly like Kyungsoo’s.

Poor Jongdae evidently blames himself for Xiumin’s failure and it’s unforgivable of him to let his wife remain under that false conclusion. And what’s this about being undesirable? Does Jongdae really believe that after Xiumin’s repeated loss of self-control? And this part about limitations and the bit about breaking trust—Xiumin feels like those are lines lifted from the apology  _ he _ should have written.

The embroidery should really show a kitten and an eagle to accurately represent their relative bravery. 

The first thing Xiumin does is hang the tapestry where it’ll always be the last thing he sees as he exits the room to face the empire. He could evidently use the reminder of who he really is and what’s waiting for him when he returns.

Then Xiumin washes and dresses in a fresh formal ensemble before heading back to his office. He needs to find a time to schedule a council with his wife.

#  ♕♡♔

Jongdae’s not sure what to think when he enters his chambers to find his husband sitting in his parlor. Evidently Xiumin’s not sure what to think, either, because he jumps guiltily as if Jongdae had caught him in some objectionable act, even though he’s just sitting at the breakfast table with a bottle of spirits and a pair of bronze tumblers.

“Um. Your Phoenix is ever at your service,” Jongdae bows, then he waits warily to see what the Jade Emperor wants with him.

Nothing happens for long moments except Xiumin openly ogles his wife, blinking slowly as his gaze travels up and down Jongdae’s body.

Figuring his husband wants sex again but is too proud to ask for it, Jongdae starts untying his jacket. “Would the Dragon enjoy your Phoenix’s mouth, or should your wife prepare to be bedded?”

The question evidently knocks Xiumin out of his stupor, because he shakes himself and grimaces. “I deserve that, I guess. I’m here to apologize, though. I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you, and I just want you to know that I’m sorry for treating you that way. I failed you, and I’d kneel to beg your forgiveness but I’m afraid I’d collapse. I only meant to have one drink to keep my courage up, but I’ve been sitting here for a while and the bottle seems rather empty.”

His words are only a little slurred, but the bottle of spirits looks to be only a quarter full. Jongdae’s not sure what that means, nor does he have any idea what Xiumin is apologizing for. Baffled, he stands there for a beat, then continues to shrug out of his clothes. 

“So, mouth?”

Xiumin flinches. “No! I told you—I’m not going to violate you.”

The pair of them blink at each other, Jongdae in confusion and Xiumin in apparent consternation. Then the Dragon’s face softens.

“Drink?” he offers, holding out the second tumbler.

Jongdae shrugs. He has no idea what’s going on or what Xiumin wants, but if it’s going to be sex Jongdae wouldn’t mind something to help him relax. He takes a seat across the little table from his husband, accepting the bronze tumbler of clear liquid. 

Xiumin tosses his own drink back with a flourish, so Jongdae does the same. Then he coughs and sputters as the alcohol burns all the way down his throat to light his stomach on fire.

“That’s… strong,” he chokes out.

Xiumin’s lips pull back into a lazy smile. “Yeah. That’s why I like it.”

“Okay then,” Jongdae says, recovering his breath. He waits for Xiumin to explain why he’s there, but Xiumin seems content to blink slowly at him while staring at his mouth.

Jongdae sighs. “It’s normal for a man to have needs. And your Phoenix is here to meet those needs. There’s no need for awkwardness. Just close the imperial eyes and pretend a woman is pleasuring the Jade Emperor.”

“I don’t want a woman,” Xiumin says with a shake of his head.

“Well, pretend something else, then. But the Jade Emperor is obviously stressed and unhappy. If the Dragon insists that only your Phoenix may meet imperial needs, then it would be wise to let the Phoenix take care of things.”

Xiumin shakes his head. “I won’t force you,” he says. “That’s what I’m trying to say. I’m sorry for losing control and using you so disrespectfully.”

Something clicks in Jongdae’s head. “Oh. Is the Jade Emperor regretful of the other morning?”

Xiumin nods.

Jongdae shrugs. “There’s no need for remorse. Your Phoenix is here to please the Dragon.”

Xiumin scowls. “No.”

Sighing, Jongdae leans back in his chair. “Okay. Well, if the Jade Emperor doesn’t require pleasure and has delivered the apology, how else can your Phoenix serve Your Imperial Highness?”

Xiumin’s scowl intensifies. “I don’t want the Phoenix to serve me.”

Jongdae blinks. “Apologies.” He waits expectantly for his husband to dismiss him.

“I want… I miss the Magpie.”

Oh. “Um. Okay. Do you want me to stroke your hair?”

Xiumin’s face lights up at the dropped honorifics, but then he’s frowning again. “No. I mean, yes. But no. I want… I wish I could know you. What you’re really like. Not because of duty.”

Jongdae’s brows go up. “Oh. Well, when we’re alone, you usually get the real me. I mean, I haven’t lied to you or anything.”

“You pretend, though. To like me. To be willing to do…  _ things. _ ”

“I do like you. But sometimes I’m disappointed that I can’t seem to truly please you. I feel like a bad wife, letting you be grumpy and stressed and skipping meals.”

“You’re the best wife.”

“So you say, but you’re not sleeping well and you always seem on edge.”

“Because I’m failing again, and I can’t seem to control myself. You’re too good, Dae. Too good of a wife.”

For a moment, Jongdae can only stare quizzically at his husband. This conversation seems to be going in circles and Jongdae’s not sure how to break out in an actually useful direction. It’s hard when everything he offers keeps getting rejected.

Rejected. What had his sister said? If something feels like rejection, it’s because Xiumin’s following his honor instead of his heart?

Suddenly Jongdae snorts. The snort becomes a chuckle which quickly dissolves into a deep belly laugh. Xiumin’s face twitches between concern and amusement as Jongdae struggles to control himself.

“Okay. Okay—let’s try something.”

Xiumin leans forward, brow raised.

“Let’s do as you wish. You be the Tiger, I’ll be the Magpie. No honor, no duty, just raw, selfish needs, okay?”

Xiumin stares for a moment, then nods.

“Okay. So. How does the Tiger feel about formal imperial crowns?”

“I hate it. It hurts my head and neck.”

Jongdae nods. “I agree. I liked when we rubbed each other’s scalp. I wouldn’t mind suffering during events so much if I knew I’d get to do that in the evening.”

“Yes. Deal.”

Jongdae grins. “Now you ask. You want to know me, so ask me.”

Xiumin draws a lip between his teeth and rolls his eyes to the ceiling. “The babies. Love or duty?”

Jongdae smiles. Evidently the Tiger still cares about his cubs. “Both.” When Xiumin looks like he’s going to protest the validity of the answer, Jongdae hastens to clarify. “Look, I don’t love changing diapers or being puked on. But they need to be cared for whether it’s pleasant or not—that’s the duty. But I don’t mind the duty, because I love them. Their smiles and coos and cuddles make everything else worth it.”

Xiumin chews on his lip a moment longer, brows drawn together in contemplation. Then he nods, evidently satisfied. “You ask.”

“Do you ever wish you were born to some other family? That your parents were merchants, perhaps, instead of the rulers of the known world?”

Xiumin tilts his head to one side, where it lolls adorably on his drink-loosened neck. “I’ve never thought about it. I just… have always been the heir. This is what I was raised to do, and I try my best to be good at it.” His head flops back the other direction. “I like the fancy food at our banquets, though. Perhaps I’d have enjoyed creating it as much as I enjoy eating it.”

He lifts his head, brows twitching down in an attempt at a serious expression. “Speaking of my parents… does my mother truly treat you well?”

Jongdae purses his lips. “She’s softer with me now than she used to be. I don’t know that I’d quite call us friends. But I think we’re something approaching allies? We both care for your wellbeing, and we both love the babies, and that’s enough to forge a sort of partnership. I think that working hard for you together is even beginning to foster some growing respect.”

“Good,” Xiumin nods. “I know she is not an easy woman, but she is an effective one. And you deserve all the respect, my perfect, diligent, tolerant wife. You’ll tell me, right? If my mother is cruel?”

Jongdae shrugs. “I would hate to burden your mind over something so petty.”

Xiumin frowns, but Jongdae avoids further fussing by reminding his husband that it’s Jongdae’s turn to ask a question. He considers asking another easy one, but Xiumin yawns. Jongdae doesn’t want this candid conversation to end before resolving the awkwardness between them, so he steels himself for an answer he won’t like.

“Is there anything I can do to make myself more sexually attractive to you?”

Xiumin is shaking his head before Jongdae even finishes the question, and Jongdae tries not to feel disappointed. Ingrained preferences aren’t a personal rejection. It’s nobody’s fault that Xiumin isn’t interested in men.

“You’re way too sexy already. Please don’t try to be sexier.”

Jongdae looks for a joke in Xiumin’s eyes but finds only suffering sincerity. “Really?”

Xiumin nods. “I’m sorry. I’ll figure out how to control myself—you don’t have to worry that I’ll force you or anything.”

“What if I want you to?” Jongdae blurts. “I mean, not force me. But touch me. And let me touch you. And maybe… other stuff.”

“You… You  _ want _ me to touch you?”

Jongdae can feel himself blush but he’s committed now so he nods. “If you’re not interested, I understand. But I just thought that, if we can help each other out, wouldn’t that be better than being lonely and frustrated?”

Xiumin’s eyes are wide and his mouth opens and closes several times before more words come out. “Dae. Seriously? You want to… with me?”

Jongdae nods again. “You’re gorgeous. I kind of hate you for it. But I also kind of want to put my hands and maybe my mouth all over you.”

More gaping. “You  _ want _ to?”

“I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable. We don’t have to. It was just a thought.”

“I want to,” Xiumin breathes. “But not… not with the dutiful Phoenix. Only with the selfish Magpie.”

Jongdae grins. “The selfish Magpie wants to share the Tiger’s bed every night. I want you on top of me. I want to be on top of you.”

Xiumin whimpers. “Now? O-on top of me  _ now? _ ”

Jongdae bites his lip. “That’s probably a bad idea, given the amount of spirits missing from that bottle. I don’t think I can survive you waking up horrified a second time.”

Xiumin winces. “Wasn’t horrified with  _ you. _ Horrified with myself. For forcing you. Taking advantage of my dutiful Dae.”

Jongdae smiles at the nickname, but Xiumin’s face goes pensive.

“But, Dae. I’ll be good. Share with me. I’ll keep you warm.”

Jongdae grins. “If it pleases Your Imperial Highness.”

But Xiumin frowns. “I’m your husband, not Your Imperial Highness—My Imperial Highness? Whatever—you’re my wife, and we’re alone. The selfish Tiger doesn’t want to be called by a title. I want you to call me by a  _ name. _ ”

Jongdae smiles. Everything the selfish Tiger wants so far is adorable. “You want me to call you Xiumin?”

Xiumin’s brow furrows. “No. That’s the Dragon’s name.”

“So, Minseok?”

Xiumin’s face twists. “I guess. But… I mean. I call you Dae?” Then his whole face distorts in sudden shock. “Oh. Is that okay? Maybe you hate that.”

Jongdae shakes his head. “I like it,” he assures his husband. “So, you want me to give you a nickname, too?”

Xiumin blushes and giggles and Jongdae’s a bit concerned his heart will stop. “Ah, it sounds so dumb. It’s really dumb, right? I’m really dumb.”

“You’re not,” Jongdae disputes. “You’re adorable. And sexy. Somehow at the same time. It’s really not fair.”

Xiumin giggles again. “Hmm. Maybe you’re dumb, too.”

Jongdae laughs. “Probably. Would it be dumb if I called you Seok?”

Xiumin tilts his head.

Jongdae tries to explain. “It’s just that ‘min’ is ‘jade,’ right? And when you’re the Tiger, maybe you’d like to ignore jade for a while.”

Xiumin nods slowly. “Yes. The Tiger approves.”

“Good.” Jongdae smiles. “Should the Magpie help the tipsy Tiger into bed?”

“And stay.”

“Only cuddling, though.”

Xiumin whines. “What about the morning?”

“If you’re sober and awake, we can see what happens,” Jongdae says. “The chambermaid will be scandalized.”

Xiumin scoffs. “Not scandalous. A man can enjoy his wife. It’s the opposite of scandalous.”

Jongdae laughs. “Yes. We’ll shame anyone who’s scandalized. We’re respectable.”

“Yes. The perfect couple.”

#  ♔♡♕

Xiumin wakes as usual when the chambermaid comes in to open the curtains and chatter about nothing. She has a brief verbal stumble in the middle of telling him about the weather, but she quickly recovers. She exits with a “Sorry to interrupt a private moment, Your Imperial Highnesses. Breakfast for two will be waiting in the sitting room.”

Xiumin only buries his face against sweet citrus-scented skin. He doesn’t care about breakfast. He cares about the treat in his arms, beneath his sleep-heavy body.

_ Beneath him. _ Now there’s a strangely appealing thought. What would he have to do to get those kittenish lips to moan for him? Surely pleasing another man isn’t so different from pleasing himself. Not that he’s done any of that lately, but he was a teenager once. And the way they’re currently entwined, the motion required would be rather familiar.

But first Xiumin has to figure out who’s in his bed.

He cuddles closer against Jongdae’s back, pressing a kiss to the nape his face is nestled against. “Dae?” he rumbles, heart racing in anticipation—of what, he’s not entirely sure.

To his delight, Jongdae doesn’t pull away. If anything, he cuddles back into Xiumin’s embrace.

“Mmf. Seok.”

That’s right—that’s who he is right now. Just Seok, with his Dae in his arms.

“My Dae,” he murmurs against Jongdae’s skin. “My precious Magpie.”

Jongdae responds with a contented little hum, but Minseok doesn’t want hums. He wants moans.

He runs his right hand down Jongdae’s side. “Should I touch you, Dae?”

“If you like.”

Minseok frowns. “Do you want me to touch you?”

There’s a pause, then a very quiet “Yes.”

Such a little word, yet it triggers such a big thrill. Minseok glides his hand down Jongdae’s hip until he reaches the hem of his undertunic, then he strokes upwards until his hand reaches his wife’s warm skin beneath the fabric.

Jongdae shifts, letting the linen ride up his body more easily. He fumbles at the ties of his smallclothes, leaving them loose around his hips. “Please, Seok,” he all but whines.

So of course Minseok slides his hand along that taut little abdomen and down into the loosened smallclothes. Jongdae’s cock is hard and hot in his hand, both familiar and foreign, the shape and thickness different enough from his own to be intriguing but similar enough that Minseok is confident that he can coax pleasure from the sensitive flesh. Jongdae’s breath hitches when Minseok’s hand closes around him and strokes his wife like he’d stroke himself.

Jongdae hums again, shifting his hips backwards, rubbing his ass against Minseok’s groin. Minseok moves his hand up and down Jongdae’s shaft slowly at first, enjoying the squirming against his own hot arousal, loving how close in height they are, that everything lines up so nicely. His own cock kicks against the cleft of Jongdae’s ass, and the resulting moan spurs Minseok to stroke a little faster, tightening his grip just a little.

“Seok,” Jongdae moans. “Ah, Seok, please!”

Minseok finds himself rutting up against his wife’s ass as he strokes Jongdae’s cock harder, faster, using the slickness beaded at the tip to ease the glide over the silken skin. Jongdae writhes, tosses his head back against Minseok’s shoulder, then groans deep in his throat, his back vibrating against Minseok’s chest with the gutteral noise.

“Seok,” he groans long and low as his cock throbs again and again in Minseok’s hand, spilling hot over his fingers.

Minseok is in awe. He did that. He’s the reason his Dae is sighing his name, his  _ real _ name, not his title. Dae is happy to have Seok touch him, make him feel so good. Minseok feels so powerful, to have been able to do this for his perfect wife, and his hips roll against Jongdae’s ass half a dozen times of their own volition before Minseok embarrasses himself with a sheepish sigh. 

“My Dae,” he says again, releasing Jongdae’s softening cock in favor of wrapping both his arms around that tapered torso. “My Magpie wife.”

“Ah, Seok,” Jongdae mumbles. “Felt so good.”

It  _ had  _ felt good. It had felt  _ really  _ good to hold Jongdae and make him moan with pleasure, to have his wife’s warm body in his arms as Jongdae had pulsed helplessly into his smallclothes, to grind his own groin against that shapely ass until he’d soiled his own undergarments.

And it certainly didn’t feel as though he’d been degrading his wife by doing so.

Minseok snorts and Jongdae produces an inquisitive hum in response.

“I’ve been rather stupid.”

Jongdae chuckles. “Not stupid. More like… nobly misguided.”

Minseok laughs softly against the back of Jongdae’s shoulder. “My ‘noble’ attempt to keep from misusing you made both of us suffer,” he says. “I call that stupid, especially since I assumed I knew your mind on the matter without bothering to actually ask.”

Jongdae shrugs that shoulder. “If you had asked right away, you’d have gotten a different answer,” he says. “I was willing only out of duty at first, just as you’d assumed. Then I was willing out of sympathy. But now I’m the selfish Magpie, and I want you for my own sake.”

Minseok hums. “I enjoyed your pleasure as much as my own,” he admits. “If you continue to share my bed, I’ll touch you every night if you like.” 

“I selfishly want your pleasure, too,” Jongdae says. “I was thrilled to have relieved your tension that morning until I realized I’d violated you in your sleep.”

“I was half-awake,” Minseok clarifies. “I mean, I either knew it was you or dreamt it was you, and either way I was more than willing.” He presses a kiss to Jongdae’s nape. “I was just ashamed that I’d reduced you to an object for my base desires. I have much more respect for you than that.”

“I know you respect me,” Jongdae replies. “You’ve proven that repeatedly. But I have base desires, too. Since we’re both committed to keeping our vows, it only seems rational that we satisfy each other.”

“It does,” Minseok agrees, then he sighs. “Too bad we can’t be our selfish selves all day. I must become the Dragon, and the Dowager Empress is probably waiting for the Phoenix.”

“Then I’d better hurry to dress and join the venerable Dowager Empress before she loses her more favorable regard for me.”

Minseok chuckles, forcing himself to release his wife. “Will my Magpie come back to me tonight?”

“Only if the Tiger will be waiting.”

“Then it’s agreed.”

#  ♕♡♔

Jongdae is only mildly embarrassed to emerge from the dragon door into his parlor to indeed find the Dowager Empress perched on a sofa.

“Many apologies,” he bows on his way to his dressing room. 

He quickly trades his bedrobe and sticky smallclothes for cleaner, more appropriate daytime attire, not bothering to get too formal since Baekhyun would be by later to dress him for court anyway. He’s back in the parlor bowing his apologies again in only a few minutes, then dutifully takes up his place behind his embroidery frame.

The Dowager Empress merely raises a brow at Jongdae.

“It is hoped the Dowager Empress was not left waiting for very long,” Jongdae says when the silence stretches out, offering an appeasing smile.

“Long enough to listen to my son laughing loud enough to be heard through the door,” the woman answers. 

Jongdae cringes a little. They’d joked around a little over a hasty breakfast, but of course the Dowager Empress would assume Jongdae had been deliberately shirking his morning counsel with his husband’s mother.

But before he can apologize again, the Dowager Empress actually smiles at him. “I haven’t heard him that happy since before he was crowned,” she says. “It seems that you are indeed becoming a worthy wife under my tutelage.”

Jongdae manages not to snort. 

Still, his mood is buoyant all day. The babies are starting to sample pureed food, making adorable messes of themselves. His husband practically grins at him throughout the entire lengthy court session. And though the Jade Emperor doesn’t return to quarters until late at night, he sings to the babies with Jongdae, much to Gookjoo’s respectfully-dampened delight

It doesn’t get awkward until they’re alone in the Dragon’s bedchamber.

For too many moments, they just sort of stare at each other.

“So…” Xiumin starts. “Uh. Should we…” He gestures vaguely toward Jongdae or the bed or possibly the nightstand.

Jongdae isn’t any more composed. Should they strip first? Start with kissing? Does Xiumin even want kissing, or is this a strictly hands-below-the-waist sort of arrangement? Except his Seok had kissed the back of his neck that morning, so maybe kissing is okay if it’s not on the mouth?

His Seok fidgets, looking lost, so Jongdae thinks it might be easiest to start with something they’ve done before. He sits on the end of the bed, patting the blanket beside him. 

“I know we didn’t wear the heavy crowns today, but head rubs would still feel nice, right?”

Minseok looks relieved. “Yes. Let’s do that.”

He comes over to sit next to Jongdae and it’s only a little awkward when they initially bury their fingers in each other’s hair.

“I’d never seen a man with long hair untied before we married,” Jongdae says when the initial hums of pleasure have quieted. “I really like playing with yours.”

“Yours is long now, too,” Minseok points out, returning Jongdae’s shy smile with one of his own.

Jongdae huffs. “It’s a really annoying length,” he gripes. “It’s always in my face unless it’s tied up or pinned back. It tickles my nose when I’m trying to sleep.”

Minseok laughs. “My poor little Magpie,” he coos. “You suffer so much for Lohoryeo.”

“I’m not suffering at the moment,” Jongdae says with a grin. “But… I’m not sure where to go from here. Should we just sleep and share pleasure again in the morning?”

“The selfish Tiger wants it now  _ and _ in the morning.” 

Jongdae laughs. “Making up for lost time?”

Minseok nods.

“Well, I’m certainly not going to object,” Jongdae chuckles. “Do you like kissing? Is it weird because I’m a man?”

Minseok shrugs. “No weirder than if you were a woman,” he says, then uses his hands in Jongdae’s hair to bring their lips together.

Jongdae doesn’t even have time to think before Minseok’s mouth is on his, which is probably for the best. As it is, Jongdae can only react, eyes closed and lips parted. Minseok sucks gently on his bottom lip, which is nice, and then his tongue is gliding gently along Jongdae’s upper lip. Jongdae had momentarily forgotten about his own tongue, but now he brings it forward to slide against his husband’s. 

Minseok makes a pleased little hum which buzzes from his mouth into Jongdae’s, triggering him to moan against Minseok’s lips. This intensifies Minseok’s own vocalization, setting off an escalating chain of moans that ends in laughter on both sides.

“That was fun,” Jongdae grins. 

“I want more,” Minseok says, gazing at Jongdae with a look he can only describe as  _ hungry. _ “Let’s lie down and do it again.”

He shoulders off his bedrobe so Jongdae does the same, but he balks when Minseok pulls off his undertunic. He’s so well built, all that strong and sturdy muscle. What must he think of Jongdae’s body? But Minseok is looking at him expectantly so he might as well get it over with. He’ll be under the blankets soon, anyway.

When Jongdae tugs his undertunic over his head, Minseok gives him a smirk as his eyes play over the revealed skin. Relieved that his husband seems pleased, Jongdae feels himself flush as he dives beneath the covers.

In an instant Minseok joins him, tugging Jongdae toward him with a warm arm around his waist. Then he can’t think to be self-conscious because Minseok’s lips are on his again. Minseok growls into the kiss and Jongdae moans in response, sliding his hands through Minseok’s silky hair and continuing down to caress smooth skin.

Minseok practically purrs in response so Jongdae runs his hand back up his husband’s back, earning more throaty noises of contentment.

“I think you’re my tabby instead of my Tiger,” Jongdae laughs. “You just want someone to pet you.”

“Not someone,” Minseok says. “You. And I’ll be your whatever you like as long as you keep doing it.”

Jongdae is still chuckling when Minseok claims his lips again. To better pet his affection-starved cat, Jongdae worms his other arm beneath Minseok’s body so he can use both hands. Catching on to his intentions, Minseok shifts so he’s supporting himself on his forearms, hovering more above Jongdae rather than next to him. When Jongdae first runs both palms down his husband’s back, Minseok breaks the kiss to throw his head back and moan, a position that presses his thigh against Jongdae’s extra-sensitive groin. The resulting groan of pleasure and frustration makes Minseok chuckle above him, then shift even more until he can grind his own groin down against Jongdae’s.

“Seok!” Jongdae chokes out, unsure whether he’s protesting the action or demanding that it continue. 

His Seok is evidently unsure as well, because he freezes above Jongdae, looking down at him with eyes widened in concern.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No, I’m just really hard,” Jongdae whines.

Minseok’s face morphs from cautious to pleased. “I made you hard,” he gloats. “I’m going to make my Magpie feel so good.” He rolls his hips again, but Jongdae retaliates by raking his nails down Minseok’s back.

“Dae!” 

Jongdae snickers.

“Do it again,” Minseok demands, grinding against Jongdae for inspiration.

Jongdae obliges with a moan. They trade grinding for scratching several more times until the tension in Jongdae’s belly is almost overwhelming.

“Seok,” he pants. “If you keep going, I will— I think I’m going to—”

“Good,” Minseok growls, thrusting against him even harder.

Jongdae throws his head back, making all kinds of rather un-Magpie-like sounds and scrabbling his fingertips down Minseok’s back. His need is almost painfully sharp and then he’s arching up against Minseok, his own hips jerking as his pleasure overtakes him.

“Seok!” Jongdae wails.

Minseok is shouting, too; something that might be Jongdae’s name. And then he collapses, rolling to the side and pulling Jongdae with him to trade more lazy kisses until they fall asleep.

#  ♔♡♕

The rest of the winter is absolute bliss for Xiumin. He starts every day with his Magpie in his arms, rubbing sleepily against each other, soft little sighs breaking the early morning silence. They don’t always have the luxury of time needed to please each other properly, but just knowing that his wife is eager for his touch makes Xiumin feel mightier than the crown that marks him as Lohoryeo’s Dragon.

And at the end of each day, no matter how long or stressful, Xiumin joins his wife in singing to their children while cuddling them close. Then he cuddles his Magpie even closer, pinning Jongdae to his bed and devouring his moans with hungry lips. Or he lets Jongdae pin him to the bed, something even more satisfying because then it’s even more obvious that his Magpie wants this; wants  _ him. _

Xiumin wants Jongdae, too, and makes sure his wife knows it. He showers him with compliments as the two of them explore each other’s bodies, his words overlapping Jongdae’s own verbal appreciation of his Tiger.

“You always smell so good—”

“Stars, all these  _ muscles _ —”

“I just want to lick your cheekbones all the time—”

“You’re always so  _ warm _ —”

“I can’t get enough of the way you moan for me—”

“Ohh, touch me like that again—”

“Your neck is so delicious—”

“Yes, Seok, leave your marks all over me—”

_ Seok. _ Xiumin loves being Jongdae’s Seok, loves setting down the Jade Emperor’s mantle for a while and just being a man who loves his wife.

Yes,  _ loves. _ To a truly embarrassing degree. He loves how enthusiastic Jongdae is, how that narrow waist fits in his hands, how that taut little torso undulates above or below him, begging to be kissed and bitten and marked. He loves each and every little noise of pleasure, every furrowed brow, every time Jongdae lifts his chin as if hiding his face from his Seok will lessen the intensity of the sensations his husband is delivering.

When Dae’s in his bed all Seok can think about is how much he adores him, how perfect he is, how beautiful, how giving. Not out of duty but out of affection, always picking up on the things Minseok likes and doing them just to please, grinning at his husband’s reaction as if he adores Minseok too.

Minseok really hopes his Magpie adores him. 

“I love you,” Jongdae pants beneath him after the Lunar New Year ball. 

Minseok can only blink down at his wife stupidly. His Dae had spent the entire evening riling Minseok up as they danced, “accidentally” brushing against sensitive areas, murmuring his desire into Minseok’s ear, giving him heated gazes and flirty little winks. And now he’s writhing under him, both of them nude and hard and leaking, so Minseok thinks it’s excusable if he has very little ability to actually comprehend his own native tongue at the moment.

He blinks again as Jongdae’s words echo in his mind enough for the meaning to get through the fog of his lust. His lips curve into a grin of their own accord as he gazes down at his red, sweaty, panting, gorgeous wife.

“Really?” Minseok asks. “As the Magpie?”

Jongdae nods. “I love you, Seok, and I want to make you feel really good. I want you inside me.”

Minseok freezes. “No, Dae,” he begins, pressing a kiss to Jongdae’s lips when he looks ready to protest. “Not because it’s a woman’s role or because I think you’re just offering out of duty, but because I don’t want to cause you any discomfort in the pursuit of pleasure.”

It seems like a dozen expressions fight for control of Jongdae’s face and even as Minseok is concerned, he’s also extremely gratified. This is his Magpie, expressive and real and raw. The blank mask of the Phoenix is nowhere in sight.

Jongdae’s lips settle into a tight line for a moment before parting around a question. “What if I were inside you instead?”

Minseok’s thoughts grind to a halt like a cart with a broken axle. It must show on his face because Jongdae’s lips curve from frustration to fondness.

“We don’t have to,” Jongdae murmurs. “It’s fine. Come back down here and kiss me again. I just want to feel good with you.”

“I love you, too,” Minseok blurts, surprising both of them. 

Jongdae’s surprise melts into joy and Minseok can’t resist trying to stamp that recurved smile onto his own lips. 

“I want to make you feel amazing,” Minseok continues, his face pressed close to his wife’s. “I want to give you every possible delight. If that involves your dick in my ass, then so be it.”

Jongdae laughs. “You—why is it okay for you to feel like that but not for me to feel the same way?”

Several answers pass through Minseok’s mind but none of them would pass muster with his wife so nothing passes through his lips.

“It’s not,” Minseok finally admits, melting against his wife. “But even when I’m your Seok, I can’t help but want to protect my Dae.”

His Dae wraps both arms around him, giving Seok a squeeze. “My Tiger really is terrible at being selfish,” he chuckles.

“I love you,” Minseok mumbles against Jongdae’s neck by way of explanation. “I’m not gonna hurt you just to feel good. Especially when you’re so good with your mouth.”

Jongdae laughs at him again but Minseok doesn’t care. His wife’s mouth is amazing and seeing those upturned lips smirk around Minseok’s cock is always a transcendental experience. 

“Your mouth is fun, too,” Jongdae purrs.

Minseok is glad his face is buried against Jongdae’s citrus-scented skin. Of course he does his best to reciprocate his wife’s oral attentions, but he feels so self-conscious and awkward even though Dae really seems to enjoy his clumsy efforts.

“What if we did it like that?” Jongdae asks. “Just like using our mouths, we can take turns. We’ll take good care of each other—it doesn’t have to hurt. It’s supposed to feel really good for both of us.”

Minseok supports himself on his forearms both to let his wife breathe properly and to look down at him with skeptical brows. “Supposed to? You haven’t done it before?”

Cheeks pink, Jongdae shakes his head. “You’re the only one I’ve ever even kissed. But I had… lessons.”

Eyes wide, Minseok gapes at his wife. “Lessons?”

Jongdae’s cheeks flush further, the pink creeping up his ears as well. “Yeah. Um. From a courtesan. A male one. There were explanations and drawings and, um, demonstrations. On fruit.”

“F-fruit?” Minseok huffs, amusement tugging at the corners of his lips.

His Dae nods, fighting off a smile of his own. “Yeah—bananas and pomelos.”

Bananas Minseok can picture acting out a role in a sexual pantomime, but imagining how the large citrus fruits were used has him collapsing with mirth. Jongdae lets out an amused little huff as Minseok shakes with his laughter.

“Those poor pomelos,” he gasps eventually.

“I only brutalized the first few!” Jongdae defends. “The last ones were perfectly fine. Your pomelo is safe in my hands.”

This only sets Minseok off even harder so he rolls to the side to spare his wife from being crushed.

“M-my pomelo!” he wheezes, entirely too amused by the concept.

Jongdae makes grumpy noises that would be more convincing if they weren’t interrupted by chuckles. Minseok catches his breath well enough to kiss the exaggerated pout from Jongdae’s lips.

“My precious wife. You’ve endured so much,” he coos. “Those lessons must have been so embarrassing.”

“They were,” Jongdae whines. “And it would be a shame if I had to violate fruit under someone’s tutelage for nothing. Let me show you my hard-earned skills.”

“Okay,” Minseok agrees with a grin. “We’ll take turns. Like dancing.”

“And sucking,” Jongdae adds.

“And sucking,” Minseok agrees. “But it’s late and I’m impatient. Let me suck you now and be your pomelo another night when we have more time.”

“So, never?” Jongdae laughs wryly.

Minseok bites his lower lip gently in rebuke. “I promise I will make time for this,” he says. “You have me entirely intrigued, my brave, handsome wife.”

“You’re the handsome one,” Jongdae deflects as always. 

When Minseok opens his mouth to protest, Jongdae shakes his head with a smirk, pressing against the well-muscled shoulders he seems to greatly appreciate.

“Your Magpie was offered sucking,” he purrs. “I’ve decided to graciously accept.”

Minseok is very pleased to learn that laughing while he’s sucking makes his Magpie chirp a plethora of interesting sounds.

#  ♕♡♔

To Jongdae’s delight, his husband keeps his promise to make some time just for the two of them to explore what Jongdae had been taught. It's complicated, because Jongdae’s own schedule has become almost ridiculously full, between court, councils with the Dowager Empress, and visits from courtiers. But two weeks after he'd first mentioned the possibility, Jongdae’s kneeling on the bed between his Seok's spread knees, both of them blushing furiously. 

"I'll love you the same even if you change your mind," Jongdae says, pressing a kiss to the soft skin of Minseok’s inner thigh. 

"I know."

"You promised to tell me if anything hurts," Jongdae reminds him. 

"I will."

Jongdae coats his fingers in the pot of slippery salve he'd been given before leaving Jakhan, unafraid to be generous with it after oblique inquiries to his favorite courtier. He trusts Chanyeol with his privacy, and he’d assured him that "recreational salve" was popular with many in Guri’s dry climate and any servant could easily provide it upon request. Still, there's something special about using what he'd brought with him to this unorthodox marriage, back when he'd been equal parts determined and apprehensive. 

Minseok makes soft little noises as Jongdae works him open, slowly and carefully as he'd been taught. He never winces, just quirks a brow whenever Jongdae adds a finger or probes deeper. Both elegant brows jump up when Jongdae rubs at a certain spot, making Jongdae snicker.

"Didn't I tell you it's supposed to feel nice?"

"I don't know if 'nice' is the word I'd use," Minseok huffs through a smile. "But it's… not unpleasant."

Jongdae laughs. "I'm excited to feel it for myself."

Minseok’s smile widens. "I'm starting to anticipate you feeling it, as well."

Then his eyelashes flutter and he lets out a proper moan as Jongdae rubs that spot again. He clenches tight on Jongdae’s fingers and Jongdae’s cock twitches in envy. Still, Jongdae takes more time, spreading his fingers and adding one more, teasing until Minseok is squirming slightly, lower lip trapped between his teeth. 

"Dae, I-I'm really close."

Jongdae withdraws his fingers, wiping them on a soft cloth and allowing himself to be drawn up to trade deep, smile-distorted kisses. 

"My brave wife," Minseok chuckles against Jongdae’s mouth. "Did you really expect all this on our wedding night?"

"Er, no," Jongdae confesses, cheeks hot. "I was merely hoping for the salve, not the full preparations—I'd have been far too embarrassed to either ask you to do it or do them in front of you."

Minseok frowns. "So you'd have let me hurt you?"

"I had, er. More salve. For after."

Jongdae can’t stand the gape Minseok gives him, so he kisses it away. "Don't feel bad for what didn't happen. Just enjoy how well we're loving each other now."

"You only deserve love," Minseok growls, reaching between them to line Jongdae up. "I don't deserve you."

"You do, my Seok," Jongdae assures him as he slowly pushes inside. "We deserve to love each other fully."

Minseok moans, lifting his hips to meet Jongdae’s advance. "Love you so much, Dae. My perfect wife."

"My perfect husband," Jongdae sighs as his hips snug up against Minseok’s thighs. "So indulgent, so good to me."

He presses kisses over his Seok's murmured adulations, sighs at the strokes of strong hands over his back and shoulders. He waits for his husband to relax around him, then rolls his hips a little, loving the breathy little moan this elicits. Jongdae repeats the motion, slowly increasing his speed, watching Minseok’s face for any sign of discomfort, smiling when he finds none.

Then he angles his hips to brush past that sensitive spot, freezing in alarm when his Seok releases a hiccuping yelp.

"Sorry," Jongdae blurts.

But Minseok is shaking his head, eyes scrunched shut. "Do it again, Dae."

Jongdae does, more slowly this time, and the noise Minseok makes is still shuddery but less surprised. So Jongdae continues to thrust, faster until he has Minseok writhing against the sheets, moaning near-continuously.

"Dae. My  _ Dae!" _

"Your Dae."

"T-touch me, Dae, I'm so close, I—"

Jongdae supports himself with one arm so he can reach between them with the other and stroke a firm half-dozen times. He’s rewarded with a long, low groan, a mess in his hand, and a tightness around his own length that has him groaning and pulsing his pleasure into his Seok. 

Jongdae tries to hold his lax body up instead of collapsing onto Minseok’s chest, but Minseok pulls him down without even opening his eyes, just holding him beneath a sweaty arm as they pant together. 

"'M definitely doing that to you," Minseok mumbles. "Dae. You're amazing."

_ "We're _ amazing," Jongdae corrects.

"We are. And… rather gross at the moment."

When Jongdae holds up the clean cloth he'd tucked beneath the pillow prior to their fun, Minseok gives him such an adoring look that Jongdae has to lean in and kiss him some more.

#  ♔♡♕

"What tune is that? The one your Phoenix sang for you on Coronation Day?"

Xiumin looks up from his desk to see his Archchancellor smiling fondly at him. "I'm sorry? What tune?"

"The one you were just humming."

"I was humming?"

Kyungsoo laughs. "It's nice to hear you sing again. You seem very relaxed these days."

Xiumin feels his cheeks heat. "Well. I've been sleeping better."

"I just bet you have."

"Don't give me that smirk. How are things with you and your lanky courtier?"

Xiumin is extremely gratified when Kyungsoo's face flushes to match his own.

"Great, actually. We're to share dinner this evening, so perhaps we can get through these reports together, and both enjoy a nice meal with charming companions?"

Xiumin smiles. "Sounds like an excellent idea to me."

They plow through the paperwork like men on a mission, finishing just before the sun slips out of the sky. Which means that Xiumin can shed his imperial role and become merely Minseok in time to catch Jongdae before he has his evening meal.

"Let’s eat on the terrace," Minseok suggests, pressing his wife’s fingers to his lips.

"Isn't it still a bit chilly for that?"

"We'll bring lots of furs," Minseok coaxes. "Request hot drinks. And after we eat, I'll keep you plenty warm."

Jongdae laughs. "Outside? You'd never."

"I would," Minseok assures him. "Let me lay you down beneath the stars, my love."

"Only if I get to feed you those little cinnamon dumplings you love so much.”

Minseok’s not sure what exactly his face does to reflect his delight at such a scenario, but it sends Jongdae into actual giggles, delighting Minseok even more.

They send a servant off to have the kitchens prepare their little picnic, and in the meantime they busy themselves piling blankets and furs into the arms of their guards. The men know better than to question their emperor or his wife unless their personal safety is at risk, but Minseok catches a few hastily-hidden smiles exchanged between them as they assist in making the designated spot on the terrace cozy and comfortable.

“They’re going to hear us,” Jongdae protests, voice low, as the guards take up their post just inside the terrace doors.

Minseok drapes another fur around his wife’s shoulders before they follow the kitchen boy outside. “My dear wife, they stand outside our chambers every night. Do you really think they’ve never heard us before?”

Jongdae turns a delightful shade of scarlet at this realization, pulling the fur over his face to hide his whine. Minseok chuckles and pulls him down into their picnic spot, kissing away any lingering embarrassment before offering a steaming-hot bowl of soup to warm his hands.

“It’s the opposite of scandalous, remember?”

“Still,” Jongdae whines through a flustered smile, “I prefer to think that only you have the pleasure of hearing my pleasure.”

“Only I have the pleasure of providing it,” Minseok says. “I’m almost proud to have others hear the proof of my success.”

“Are you proud that they hear you, too?” Jongdae asks between sips. “Few of the noises I coax out of you would in any way qualify as dignified.”

“Sure,” Minseok shrugs. “Within my own chambers, guarded by my most trusted people, why should I be ashamed of setting aside dignity for delight?”

“It might lower the respect they hold for you.”

“It shouldn’t. It should raise it, that I’m merely a man like any other when I have opportunity to be. Should they respect our children any less as adults for having witnessed them make messes of themselves as children?”

“I see it’s your turn to be the wise one tonight.”

“Nice of you to allow me,” Minseok laughs. “But let’s finish our meal so we can start in on our dessert.”

#  ♕♡♔

Jongdae isn’t sure what’s come over his husband but he’s certainly not going to complain. Well, he might complain a little about the chill and about getting intimate outside, where it feels like anyone could see them despite the layers of blankets and the fact that the terrace is elevated enough that, snugged up in the cradle of the palace wall as they are, nobody could catch a glimpse without wings.

So he lets himself be… well. The only word he can really think of is  _ romanced, _ despite the fact that he’s never experienced any such thing firsthand before. He’s been married for almost ten months, and while he absolutely believes Minseok loves him, this is the first time he’s been like this, this sort of deliberately attentive, tender, affection. Sure, he’s been solicitous of Jongdae from the very beginning, and ever since they’d finally figured out what kind of easy, sweet love they could have together, Minseok has been full of adoration. 

But this, this charming, flirtatious, boyish side, when it’s just the two of them, not to play up for their people but just for themselves, for each other—it’s almost too much. It should feel ridiculous, possibly false, but Jongdae can’t help but enjoy it, play back into it, cuddle into Minseok’s side and feed him dumplings from his fingers, blushing when Minseok licks the lingering sugar from his skin even though he’s done much lewder things with that tongue. This isn’t really about sex—though Jongdae’s sure they’ll end up un-scandalizing their guards at some point. It’s more about intimacy, about connection, the tiger and the magpie simply basking in each other’s company. Not needing to be anyone other than their most basic selves, absolutely comfortable that, for each other, their basic selves are already enough.

Like all their stolen moments, away from the pressures and responsibilities of the empire, Jongdae wishes it could last forever.

They actually get a chance to talk, just idle chat about their youth, nothing of consequence and yet leaving Jongdae feeling like he knows his husband a little better. That they’re a little closer. That he actually  _ likes _ Minseok as well as loves him, that Minseok likes him, too. That their shared pleasure isn’t just based on convenience or destiny, that they’d actually choose each other if they’d just been born as village boys instead of princes, flirting at fairs and festivals, sneaking around to steal moments in haylofts and storage rooms.

It makes their kisses that much sweeter.

They kiss for a long time, slowly, in no hurry to move on as is often the case when they share pleasure, having to be efficient rather than languid. Tonight, they have plenty of time, time to simply caress, tease, press close for more than mere body heat, to rest, forehead against forehead, breathing each other’s cinnamon-scented breath.

“I’m so lucky,” Jongdae murmurs against Minseok’s bare shoulder, lips pressed to soft skin as Minseok’s fingers trail idle circles against his side.

“That’s how I feel, too.” Minseok’s voice is soft, his breath puffing warm over Jongdae’s hair. "Dae. I would have been happy if you simply didn’t hate me.”

Jongdae scoffs. “Seok, you were miserable.”

Minseok lets all his breath out in a long huff. “I was, wasn’t I?” He presses a kiss to Jongdae’s head. “And so were you. And now I have everything, Dae, and it makes me feel so guilty.”

Jongdae tilts his head back to regard his husband with a furrowed brow. “Why guilty?”

Minseok gives him an astonished look. “Dae, your sister is dead because of me. And now you’re here, and I get to enjoy you, and our babies, and I’ve done nothing to deserve any of it.”

Jongdae frowns. “Seok, my sister is dead because twins run in my mother’s family. She has a twin sister, and she miscarried twins between my oldest sister and my oldest brother. You had no control over how she would conceive. And Junhee would have known—my mother would have told her. That… that if the birth is difficult, the midwife can, well. Sacrifice one twin to save the other, and usually the mother as well.”

He shifts to support himself on an elbow, the better to meet Minseok’s reluctant face. “She had a choice, Minseok. She chose her children. Stars, Seokkie—did you really think it was your fault?”

The way Minseok only stares up at the moon, jaw flexed, gives Jongdae the only answer he needs.

“The only way you could have saved her is if you’d have known. That she was carrying twins. That there was even an option to intervene. And Junhee was noble and stubborn. She probably knew she was carrying two. And she probably decided well before she went into labor what her decision would be if something went wrong.” 

Minseok is shaking his head but Jongdae catches the curve of his cheek against the palm of his hand. “My sister never would have given any hint to the one person who could override her decision, because, like me, she knew from an early age that she’d have little say in her own life. I taught myself not to mind, to be content with little, because the monastery certainly wasn’t going to treat me any different than any other peasant’s son. But Junhee was the type to guard what few choices she did have, about her clothing or food or social engagements. She never would have let you take control of her own body, her own  _ life _ away from her.”

Jongdae waits for Minseok to look at him, intent on making sure he understands. “When you were drunk once, you said she’d died for duty, but that’s not true. Did you know that she’d commissioned a year’s worth of baby outfits, each with little Jakhan details, the patterns that are traditionally embroidered for health and protection and luck? That she’d hand-made toys for them, had gotten her minstrel to teach her traditional Lohoryeo lullabies so she could sing to them both halves of their heritage?”

Minseok shakes his head.

“She adored them well before they were born, Seokkie. My sister didn’t die for duty. She died for love.”

“Then I feel twice as guilty, because I didn’t know her well enough to love her in return.”

“As I said, she never would have expected that, certainly not right away. And neither did you. But I’m sure you appreciated and respected her, looked after her wellbeing far more than your own, showered her with gifts, did what you could to foster her happiness, because you did all of that with me and I wasn’t even sharing your bed until recently.”

“We didn’t—I hardly ever saw her after the wedding night. We had breakfast with my mother the morning after, and then she was busy learning the Phoenix’s duties, and then she found herself to be pregnant, and, well. I’d have tried harder to spend time with her if I’d have known… I’m ashamed I can’t even answer her children when they ask their father what their mother was like.”

“That’s why I’m here,” Jongdae assures him. “I’ll make sure they know where they came from. They already know their father loves them, and that’s what their mother would have wanted. She wouldn’t begrudge either of us happiness. She always felt sorry for me, that I’d be sent off to the island with the ‘holy hairless’ as she called them. She’d have been pleased that her sacrifice ended up saving three lives.”

“Four,” Minseok says, pulling Jongdae close again and squeezing him tight. “I’d always reasoned that I avoided taking a concubine before marriage out of fear of by-blows that might threaten the position of my legitimate heirs. But now… I don’t think I was ever really interested, Dae. Not like I am in being with you, and I never—well. It never would have occurred to me to seek the intimate company of another man if I hadn’t been honor-bound to accept a male wife.”

“Then let’s honor the sacrifice of our Guardian Phoenix by fully enjoying the lives she’s given us. By loving our children, and each other, without guilt, and with more joy than sorrow.”

“Let’s do that,” Minseok agrees, leaning in for a tender kiss that Jongdae eagerly returns.

If it tastes a bit like tears at first, that only makes the pleasure that follows all the more worth savoring.

#  ♔♡♕

Xiumin had always found his birthday celebration to be a little bit awkward ever since he’d been crowned. The people have Coronation Day to celebrate his reign, he doesn’t need another grand festival to extoll him for simply being born. He’d appreciated it as a youth, his chance to catch the public’s eye and demonstrate he was fit to assume the crown in turn, but he’s well outgrown his look-at-me stage. 

He never requests anything special, but he knows as long as his mother is alive she’ll instruct the staff to make a big fuss, and he’s not going to spend futile effort convincing her not to, nor would he undermine her by overriding her orders, not for something as trivial as this. So he puts on his smile and thanks everyone for their extra efforts, issues edicts thanking the public for their displays and gifts and tributes, and keeps very quiet the desire for the entire day to be over already.

But when he and Jongdae are finally ascending the stairs to their chambers, Kyungsoo catches him, engaging him in some urgent logistics discussions that only seem urgent because his Archchancellor likely won’t be able to sleep until there are plans in place. But they can only be vague plans at best, seeing as Kyungsoo keeps waving off the offer to go to his office and properly discuss things. He still holds Xiumin up for more than a quarter of an hour, and it’s not until Kyungsoo finally bids him goodnight does he realize that Jongdae had slipped away at some point.

Frowning, Xiumin hastens to ascend the rest of the stairs, hoping he’s not missed the opportunity to have Jongdae free his hair and rub his scalp after the long day wearing the fancy crown. It’s his birthday, for stars’ sake, and while he doesn’t need the adulation of the public, he wouldn’t mind a little special treatment from his beloved wife. He doesn’t want to be Xiumin any more today, he just wants to be Jongdae’s Seok, to melt beneath his wife’s attentions.

But when he arrives in his chambers, he hears excited squeals and rolling giggles, making him both smile and sigh. He’s tired, but still delighted to see his babies on the rug of his sitting room, Jongdae kneeling beside them. They’re both almost walking these days, still wobbly and clinging to hands or furniture, and Minseok does like to see them practice a little each day if he can. He’d been busy all day with the celebrations, unable to even peek in on them before he’d been whisked away this morning, so for a moment, he expects that’s what this late-night visit is about. But the heavy benches that the babies usually pull themselves up on are pushed back, and his children are sitting opposite each other while Jongdae drags a ribbon along the rug between them.

And chasing that ribbon is— 

“A kitten?” A laugh escapes through his gape. “My magpie wife, did you actually get me a kitten for my birthday? At this age?”

Jongdae shrugs, entire face lit up by his smug little smile. “You said you’d always wanted one, and it seemed right for my tabby to have a friend. We can pretend it’s an early birthday present for the twins if you’d really rather, but I thought that if you spend so many hours in your office curled over your desk, maybe it would be nice to have a companion purring nearby.”

Jongdae holds out the ribbon to Minseok, who joins his family on the plush carpet, dropping to his knees to grin at the tiny cat. Its fluffy fur looks like it’ll be long and plush as an adult, white underneath with a dark sooty gray daubed over its back and tail and the top of its head. It’s adorable, batting at the ribbon, bouncing off to hide behind his daughter’s chubby thigh, evading her clumsy pat and pouncing forward to catch the ribbon and roll to kick at it with tiny feet.

He hadn’t noticed Jongdae move but suddenly fingers are tugging pins from his hair, saving him from the crown. A moment later they’re back, trailing through his hair, rubbing at the tender spots with an accuracy that can only be born of feeling such tenderness in person.

“You’re so good to me, my Dae,” Minseok chuckles, tilting his head back to smile up at his wife.

“You deserve every bit of it,” Jongdae says, pressing a kiss to his upturned forehead.

They play with the kitten and the babies for a while, but it really is way beyond their bedtime. So they scoop up the twins and the little cat, taking them all into the nursery for their nightly serenade. When they return to the dragon parlor, Jongdae sets the kitten down in a pen set up in the corner with taut mesh overtop to keep the kitten from climbing out.

“It’s just until she’s in the habit of using her sandbox instead of the rug,” Jongdae says to Minseok’s questioning brow. “And until she learns to be cautious of fireplaces and lanterns.”

“Is there anything you don’t know how to do?”

“Of course,” Jongdae laughs. “But I’m good at following instructions, and this is what Chanyeol said is best for a kitten of this age.”

“Kyungsoo’s paramour? He raises cats?”

“He raises all kinds of animals. He even has these exotic weasels—”

Minseok kisses his wife firmly. “I shouldn’t have asked. I’d love to know all about it in the morning, but right now I have no interest in hearing about a courtier’s weasels.”

Jongdae laughs, then presses close. “I bet I know what you currently do have an interest in.”

“That is because you are the cleverest wife any man could ever have.”

“It’s your birthday—I’m supposed to be flattering you.”

“I don’t need to be flattered,” Minseok says, leading his wife to the bed they always share. “I just need to be loved.”

“Always, my darling tiger-cat. Always.”

#  ♕♡♔

Jongdae doesn’t think he’ll ever tire of coaxing the knots from Minseok’s shoulders or chasing the furrow from his brow. He delights in each little noise of pleasure, each hum of contentment, each drawn-out exhale that pulls tension out along with it.

“My Dae, you’re so good with your hands.”

“I just like putting my hands all over you.” 

Jongdae kneads more firmly at a knot beneath Minseok’s right shoulder blade, the one he always gets when he spends too long hunched over his desk. Minseok hisses a little, then moans in a way that makes Jongdae’s groin ignite. He rubs a little more, ensuring the muscles of his husband’s back are relaxed and smooth even as stiffness builds in a certain part of Jongdae’s own body.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he murmurs, folding forward to press a kiss to the nape of Minseok’s neck.

“I’ve been sparring with Kyungsoo a few times a week,” Minseok says, voice muffled by the bedding until he rolls over, dislodging Jongdae from his perch on Minseok’s ass and settling him instead over his hips. He’s only wearing his thin smallclothes, so it’s very obvious that he’d enjoyed having Jongdae’s hands gliding over his skin. “My wife seems to enjoy a warrior’s physique.”

“I enjoy  _ you,” _ Jongdae says, “but I am happy to hear you’re taking care of yourself. Your health is important.”

When Minseok chuckles, Jongdae realizes he’s just been staring at his chiseled chest, leading him to lift his chin.

“Okay, fine—I like how well-built you are. But partly because it’s a sign of your wellbeing! So if my gaze has inspired you to get away from your desk for a little exercise, I am happy to be the cause.”

“How about a little exercise right now?”

The wiggling beneath him boldly informs Jongdae of the type of exercise his husband is suggesting, as if he’d be unable to guess otherwise. As if he hadn’t already been planning to give Minseok every possible pleasure on his birthday of all days.

“Do you want it like this?” Jongdae asks, undulating his lower body to rub his ass against the arousal he’s sitting on. When Minseok moans, Jongdae smiles, rolling his body again. “Yes, I think this is best, for you to just lie back and relax while your loving wife takes good care of you.”

“I love my loving wife.”

“As well you should,” Jongdae laughs.

Then he demonstrates that love in a very raw, physical way. It will never cease to delight him to transform the most powerful man in the known world into a pile of mush only capable of moaning Jongdae’s name. 

Tigers may be strong and fierce, but magpies are bright and clever, and Jongdae’s starting to discover that that’s a heady kind of power, too. One that the Phoenix, like the un-selfish Dragon, is determined to wield for the good of the empire, even as the selfish Magpie and the selfish Tiger together chase down pleasure that’s entirely their own.

They’re always both. No matter how they declare they’re setting aside the pressure and responsibility, it’s always there, lingering, like the scent of his husband’s hair on their sheets even after the Jade Emperor has risen to see to his empire. But they can carry it together, unbowed by difficulty because the burden is shared.

Not just by the imperial couple, either. By loyal, irreverent Kyungsoo. Wise, respectful Gookjoo. Bolstering, undauntable Baekhyun. Cheerful, enabling Chanyeol and the rest of Jongdae’s closest courtiers. Observant, protective Sir Zitao and all of the other imperial guards. By the Dowager Empress and the Princess of Jade, who’d both only ever wanted the best for the Dragon and the empire he reigned, even if their methods had sometimes ruffled the Phoenix’s feathers. By Jongdae’s family, now better able to exchange letters with him as winter slowly releases the mountains of Guri from impassable clutches. By all the palace staff, who work to feed and clothe and entertain them, and by all of Lohoryeo’s people who support the Jade Emperor’s edicts and honor the laws, who pay their taxes and deal fairly with their neighbors.

So even when his husband rises well before the dawn, leaving their bed to return to the unceasing work of leading all those that depend on the Jade Emperor, Jongdae feels far from alone.

#  ♔♡♕

A year and two days after he’d been awoken by the Guardian Phoenix’s screams, Minseok wakes to his chambermaid’s hums. She’s no longer surprised in any way to find the imperial couple entwined in the Dragon’s bed, nor does she look directly at them as she chatters about all the gifts piling up in the Phoenix’s parlor. Still, Minseok tugs the blanket up over Jongdae’s bared shoulder, guarding his wife’s modesty just as he’d guard it himself if he were awake enough to do so.

In response, Jongdae cuddles closer against him, fitting perfectly into the curve of Minseok’s body like he was made to be there. Minseok holds him tighter, needing to feel the solid warmth in his arms to dull the chill memories of trauma.

Jongdae is here and safe and healthy. Their children are safe and healthy. There’s even a kitten purring on the pillow above his head. Everything in his life is going perfectly, despite the tragedy and upheaval the imperial family has endured.

The guilt claws at him, but he reminds himself that Jongdae doesn’t blame him, insists that Junhee wouldn’t have blamed him, would have wanted him to enjoy their children without guilt for loving the man in his arms even though he hadn’t really loved the woman who’d given his heirs to him.

“I can hear you wallowing.”

Minseok’s lip twitches toward a smile as he buries his face in his wife’s neck, Jongdae’s sweet orange scent always both relaxing and arousing.

“I’m indulging in a moment of melancholy before we go and celebrate the joy of our children’s arrival into the world.”

Jongdae shifts so he can put his arms around Minseok and squeeze him, too, cradling the back of his head as Minseok tucks himself even closer to Jongdae’s steadily beating heart.

“Get it all out. Yesterday was for Junhee. Today is for Sohee and Sehun.”

They’d decided to hold the memorial for the Guardian Phoenix on the day before the babies’ birthday, giving her a whole day of honor and respect, songs of sacrifice and love, offerings to temples that cared for orphans, and a quiet banquet of Junhee’s favorite foods for the imperial family and their royal guests, the King and Queen of Jakhan arriving to mourn their daughter before celebrating their grandchildren.

Doing so on separate days was supposed to allow the heirs’ birthday to be celebrated joyfully, without the taint of loss, but Minseok can’t really separate one event from the other. How helpless he’d felt, pacing in his own chambers while his wife died in hers.

How powerful is the Jade Emperor really, if he couldn’t protect the representative of the tiny nation he’d promised to defend? Sure, his mind understands that Junhee made her choice, that his power, as is anyone’s, is not in controlling the actions of others but in controlling how he himself reacts to those events. It doesn’t stop the sense of failure from washing over him.

But most of that is memory, he reminds himself. He’s not failing anymore. The Jade Empire prospers, Jakhan is well defended, Rangguk has turned their acquisitional attentions to an island nation to the east, one both small enough and militant enough in their own right that the Empire had never seen conquering it as worth the hassle. 

And Minseok’s own family is doing well, their twins growing each day, strong enough now to play with Gookjoo’s own son, the kitten, and surely about to unwrap a mountain of toys. Today they’ll present the imperial heirs to their people, in outfits that they’ll surely hate, letting their future subjects lay eyes on them for the first time of many to come.

“That’s better,” Jongdae says, pressing a kiss to the corner of Minseok’s smile. “Our babies are precious and deserve all the joy in the world. Let’s go honor their mother some more by showing her children off and showering them with everyone’s love.”

“Let’s do that,” Minseok agrees, pressing his lips to Jongdae’s for a soft, lingering kiss before he lets himself be drawn from beneath the blankets.

The entire imperial family is dressed in coordinating damask and brocade, much of it embroidered by Minseok’s mother and some even embellished by Minseok’s wife. Everything is gold, white, and the green of jade, and after Sohee and Sehun are fed and dressed in far more drapes and folds of fabric than their tiny forms are used to, the four of them stand in the warm light of the solarium. The imperial couple does their best to hold themselves and the children still as court artists, fanned out in front of them, furiously sketch the jade family.

Sohee and Sehun do fairly well, distracted by the gleaming silk of their outfits for a while, running their tiny fingers over the intricate embroidery, babbling up at their parents. Minseok is sure that his smile is as sweetly indulgent as Jongdae’s, but he’s fine with being immortalized in a portrait with a less than dignified expression. Anyone seeing the portrait will see the image of the heirs along with their parents, and anyone who sees his beautiful babies and handsome husband will surely be able to understand the depths of the Jade Emperor’s joy.

When the court artists have what they need, the valets descend to fix rumpled clothing and hair tugged out of place by little fists, and then the imperial family is escorted with much fanfare to court. At least here, after the initial waving and bowing, they’re allowed to sit, Sohee on her father’s lap while Jongdae holds Sehun. They graciously receive visitor after visitor, ambassadors and dignitaries, prominent merchants and craftsmen, so many lined up to present Jade Princess Sohee and her brother with gift after gift.

It’s way more than any child could ever need, of course, and while they’ll make sure that the Jade Princess and Prince are allowed to enjoy as much of it as they can, much of it will be distributed to other palace children or donated to temples and orphanages. 

Minseok intends to spoil Gookjoo’s little Jongin in particular, compensation for sharing his mother with the imperial heirs. Now that the heirs are less fragile, Jongin is getting to spend time with his milk-siblings, and the toddler is proving to be a gentle, loving friend for the pair. Gookjoo just discovered herself pregnant again, and Minseok has a ridiculous hope that this baby will be a girl, as if he can orchestrate the perfect set of playmates for his children. In either case, he’s let the wetnurse know that he’ll happily keep her on as a nanny, a trusted source of advice and assistance for the imperial couple as they raise their precious children together. Of course the woman needs time for her own family, too, and now that the twins are eating mostly solid food, there’s less of a need to claim all of her hours.

He’d been relieved when Gookjoo expressed amiability to still spending much of her time with the twins, as her own health permits, especially now that she can have her own son with her, too.

“The Jade Emperor’s patronage has ensured this mother has no pressing concerns aside from childrearing, and it seems those are about to be renewed,” Gookjoo had laughed, rubbing her tummy. “If it pleases the imperial family for those children to be reared alongside the Jade Heirs, this servant is more than happy to comply.”

Minseok’s mind is eased by the fact that Gookjoo’s husband, a merchant, travels frequently. He feels less selfish for keeping the man’s wife away from home so much, instead telling himself he’s sheltering her while her husband is away, thereby easing worries of two families. That, and he pays her extremely well. Any amount would be worth it, to have the very best for his precious children.

The populace seems to share his wishes, because his little Princess is presented with surplus gifts “to be shared with His Royal Highness, the Jade Prince, should it please Her Royal Highness to do so.”

Minseok suspects that it would actually please Her Royal Highness to squirm out of all her finery and stagger around the gleaming imperial court in only her swaddler, blinking her big kitten eyes up at all the brightly-dressed courtiers. But he manages to curtail her desires to leave her father’s lap by giving her one of her new toys to hold whenever she gets restless. 

Jongdae is having a much easier time with Sehun, who showed little inclination to walk unsupported until Jongin started spending time with the twins. Minseok had of course been concerned that they weren’t developing on the same schedule, needing many reassurances that yes, they’re the same age, but every child develops on their own schedule, and that Jongdae was sure Sehun was just as alert and coordinated as his sister, despite his lack of demonstrations.

“He’s just very content to have things done for him,” Jongdae had laughed. “Why should he crawl to chase the kitten when she’s just going to bounce away? And if he sits in one place, surely she’ll bounce over to him on her own and he can pat her with far less effort.”

Minseok had frowned. “So my son is lazy?”

“Not lazy,” Jongdae had protested. “He’ll crawl to get a toy he wants, but he’s clever enough to know when the effort is needed and when he can conserve energy. Sohee is active and adventurous, while Sehun is… observant and efficient.” He’d smiled, that big sunny one that Minseok loves the most. “They actually compliment each other well. Sohee is never stagnant, but Sehun always takes a long look before he leaps.”

Still, it had been a relief when Jongin, nine months older and far from premature, had started accompanying Gookjoo for longer and longer stretches despite no longer needing his mother’s milk. Jongin not only walks, but runs, skips, and even dances. And Sehun, while content to sit back and watch the world go by when unsure or uninterested, proved himself entirely unwilling to miss out on anything the older boy does. He’s of course nowhere near as coordinated, being both younger and premature, but now he’s at least  _ trying _ to walk. He was evidently just waiting for proper motivation.

As the imperial family returns to their quarters after the long excitement of the day, Minseok thinks that, while his daughter is his miniature in looks, his son may well share more of his temperament. Hadn’t his own heart been rather stagnant until Jongdae had showed up and danced through it?

His eye catches on Junhee’s tapestry, the Jakhan magpie bold against the circle of a red sun. Representing happiness and prosperity, the emblem suits both his wives, present and past. And as his voice harmonizes with Jongdae’s when they sing their precious children to sleep, Minseok feels every inch the white tiger of good fortune, heart roaring with strength as he looks forward to their future.

#  ♕♡♔


End file.
